Victim of the Fall
by Pretty Desdemona
Summary: "Realisation dawned on her as her hands clenched on the scratched table top. She had to leave, she had to get out. She could not handle the desperate taint in the air, the empty space that now hung between everyone she loved." Two months after the final battle, Hermione Granger receives a letter that might just allow her to piece her life back together. A Hermionecentric story.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

NOT A PRETTY GIRL

"_I am not a pretty girl, that is not what I do."_

Hermione stared down at the letter in her hand as the warm summer breeze blew pleasantly through her hair. She could feel Mrs Weasley shift silently next to her as she began absent mindedly to fold over the corners of the crisp parchment, feeling that special kind of coarseness that she loved so much beneath her fingers. She hazarded a glance at her companion and found that Molly too was neglecting to watch the two aside match of Quidditch between Ron, Harry, Ginny and George being played in front of them.

Hermione followed Mrs Weasley's gaze up onto the hill beside the Burrow. Through the glaring sunlight she could just make out a row of head stones peeking through the long grass. She looked away quickly, feeling the image burn itself brutally onto her retinas. She blinked rapidly, and finally cast her eyes upwards to stare up at the match.

Harry was speeding through the air, an old football tucked underneath his arm as Ron sped along behind him, clearly having difficulty keeping up. Harry pitched the ball at Ginny, who plucked it deftly from the air and launched it through one of the hoops that had been charmed into hanging a few metres off the ground as their make-shift goal.

From where Hermione was sitting at the small circular wrought iron table under one of the larger trees growing around the Burrow that her and Mrs Weasley were sharing, she could see Ron's face turn a brilliant red and his mouth open angrily, but the wind blew his words away before they reached her. Hermione felt the sun burn on her neck as the afternoon wore on and sighed, getting to her feet, tucking the letter, now folded into a small square, into her pocket. She turned to Mrs Weasley.

"It's too hot for me out here, Molly, I'm going inside. Do you need anything?" She asked, laying her hand lightly on the older woman's shoulder.

Mrs Weasley started slightly, her eyes dazed and blank, and then said quietly, "No, no dear, I'm fine. I'll just get started on the weeding." Hermione flashed her a kind smile, and turned away, noting as she did that the older woman made no move to leave her seat.

Hermione made her way into the kitchen, past the old cauldrons and wellington boots scattered around the Burrow's back door, and stopped to run her hand over the stained and deeply scratched wood of the dining table.

Her thoughts drifted, as they always did at some point during the day, to those they had lost. How many of them had sat around that table? Sirius once, Hermione could see a tiny _SB_ carved into the wood. She wondered at the disrespect of such an action but then remembered that Molly encouraged her friends and guests to mark the table. She seemed to see it as them leaving their mark on the family, as a great artwork never to be finished.

But what about Dumbledore? It seemed just like him to be a party to something like this. As she ran her fingers over the wood she wondered what his mark would be, if anything, and almost as soon as she found it, carved into the side of the table rather than the top, she knew. The little scratched triangle with a circle and a line down the middle that looked a bit like a tiny eye. She felt a momentary rush of resentment towards her old headmaster. She had devoted years to believing him infallible and all-knowing and he had gone and crushed it. She knew, deep down, that there had been no other way. Harry had to sacrifice himself in the end. But it hurt knowing how many things Dumbledore had never told them, never told Harry. She'd always thought he was a genius, brilliant but mental as Ron used to say; now however she knew him to be just as stupid as Tom Riddle. Both men were paradoxes. Idiots with too much information at their disposal.

She let her fingers trail over the mark and walked around the table to sit heavily in one of the chairs. The list of names and faces rattled themselves off in her head, as they did every day and every night; those who had marked the Weasleys table, and those who had never had the chance.

Moody was gone. Srimgeour was gone. Colin Creevey, Dobby, Ted Tonks. They were all gone.

_Fred, Remus, Tonks_…

Those three hurt the most. Not just for her sake but because of the damage their deaths had caused. Those three had wrecked the Weasley's and Harry.

And then of course there was Severus Snape. She didn't know how to feel about that one. When she thought of him, the only words that ran through her head were _Grumpy Old Man. _He was _the _ grumpy old man. No matter what Harry said about his allegiances and his bravery, he was still a bastard. But she would have liked to come out of the final battle and shake his hand all the same; would have liked to have talked to him, see what he was like without Voldemort and Dumbledore hovering over him.

Understandably, she found it hard to believe that it was all really over; she still expected to hear of some evil being threatening the lives of everyone she loved to emerge from the background. Another Dark Lord. And then the battle would begin again. They would all have something to consume them again, something to care about. She couldn't help worry now about all the people left behind, the world just didn't feel right, didn't feel full anymore. There was something wanting and she could see it in the faces of everyone around her.

Nothing was the same. She always knew it wouldn't be but the differences were drastic and scary.

Harry flipped constantly between two extremes. On a good day he would be dizzyingly euphoric, leaping about assuring everyone that life was good again, and that happiness was possible. He would laugh and talk and eat. He'd mourn the dead with respect and bravery, he was strong about it.

The very next day though could find him lying in bed with the curtains drawn as Ginny knelt beside him, rubbing his hair as he alternated between sobbing into the mattress, the sheets scrunched up in his fists; and staring blankly into the space in front of him. On rare occasions, they could all hear him raging at her, screaming, begging her to tell him what the point was, why he should bother any more. It was at times like these that the muffled sound of Ginny's sweet, comforting voice, crooning words of reassurance and hope, would float through the house both lifting spirits and quashing them.

Ginny herself had adopted a kind of wounded strength that Hermione had never thought possible of her. Once upon a time she was strong and independent; but now she had taken on the motherly role within the family; trying, resolutely, to remain the omnipresent pillar of strength to what was left of the people she loved. Ginny was affected now. She no longer danced to her own tune but to the tune of everyone else's grief.

Arthur drowned himself in his work, and obsessed over bringing justice to Voldemort's remaining followers day and night. He was fervent and committed but Hermione knew it was just a matter of ignoring the greater problem that awaited him at home.

George was a shadow of his former self, often to be seen walking through the hills around their home, hands deep in his pockets, speaking aloud to his dead twin as if he was still walking beside him. He was a quintessential example of numbness. He smiled, but there was no light. He frowned, but there was no storm. He was blank.

Ron was never cheerful but at the same time, he seemed less down trodden than the rest of the family. When Hermione looked at him she could see guilt and fear repressed. His eyes were blank and cold. Whenever she noticed a rare smile light up his face, she watched as it faltered, could tell that he was internally reminding himself that smiling was not allowed now. Ron was in some kind of manic denial. Hermione hoped it would work for him. Perhaps he was going about it the right way and if he continued to pretend pain didn't exist, maybe it would actually go away.

To Hermione though, Molly was the most heartbreaking. She would often speak to people who weren't there, she would re-wash dishes she had washed only minutes earlier and repeatedly she had asked Ron, Harry or herself when they would like to go to Diagon Alley to pick up their school things. Whenever any of them had reminded her that there was no school anymore she would simply reply, "Oh nonsense!" and go back to sitting in the garden, staring up at the hill beside the house.

Hermione wondered briefly if maybe the dead were the lucky ones. Were there pieces to pick up in the afterlife? Because the amount that had to be done in the real world was just too much.

She stared down at her hands again, at a loss. She could see very clearly that everyone around her was in a great deal of pain, not to mention herself, but for once, no book could help her. She ached to fix, to mend, but had no idea where to start.

After the final battle, the mood had been euphoric and manic and desperate. It had been everything. She wanted to sleep, she wanted to hug Harry, she wanted to fuck Ron, she wanted to curse everyone in the vicinity. All at once. Instead, she had laughed and cried and toasted the dead and the living. It was awful and terrifying but she had, at the very least, things to do, other things to focus on. She had ridden that feeling, that unreality, until her bones ached and her eyes refused to stay open any longer. She had been there at Hogwarts with the Weasleys and Harry until there was nothing more to do, the sick and the wounded were taken care of, and the dead were disposed of with respect.

Harry had disappeared almost immediately into the Gryffindor tower to sleep and Hermione couldn't blame him. She and Ron had followed soon after, dragging their feet through the rubble, hand in hand. When they stepped into the boys dormitory together, Harry had looked so vulnerable and hurt in his sleep that Hermione had climbed in beside him without thought. He looped his hand over her hip sleepily as she pressed her back to his chest and Ron slipped under the covers in front of her, pulling her arm over him.

She had been able to sleep only briefly. The noise from the Great Hall was a constant, distracting hum and she had left Hogwarts with the Weasleys and Harry the following evening. They had apparated directly back to The Burrow and its usual atmosphere absorbed them.

She knew, vaguely, at the time that the only reason everyone was so loud, the only reason they rushed around was because they didn't want to stay still or quiet for long enough to let reality sink in. And that method worked.

Days later, they were visited by Professor McGonagall. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny found themselves seated around the large wooden table in the dying light of the afternoon with their former professor. The older woman clasped her hands in front of her as she regarded the four of them solemnly.

"Do I need to say how proud I am? Of all of you?" She said heavily.

Harry stared at the table and Hermione itched to take his hand and comfort him. Instead, she looked up at her Transfiguration professor.

"No, professor. There are others who deserve far more credit than us."

Professor McGonagall nodded and cleared her throat. "Of course. Now I have come here this evening with a proposition."

Hermione had already guessed as much and her heart gave a nervous lurch.

"I would like it if you would consider repeating your seventh year. Obviously, I would not see it as compulsory," She said, "But the offer is there if you would like to take it."

"Just for the seventh years?" Asked Ginny.

"Initially I thought so." Replied McGonagall. "But I think that given the nature of the education you received last year, every student should be repeating. I don't see it as likely that any of you would pass the standard exams after that. I do not doubt your intelligence; I believe you, all of you, have shown a great deal of talent and bravery in the last year but you would not, in my opinion, have gathered the required knowledge under the rule of the Carrows or even Severus."

Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. Hermione wasn't feeling the mounting excitement that she would expect at such an idea. She just felt edgy and tired. And sad. She could see these feeling mirrored in the faces of her companions.

McGonagall cleared her throat again. "Do not think on it now. It was, perhaps, an imprudent time to bring it up. But I will send word by owl all the same once the finer details have been ironed out."

Every night after that she had gone to bed exhausted and utterly drained. And for a week after that, up until the funerals, her nights remained the same, having spent her days with Harry and the Weasleys consumed with planning and talking, crying and comforting. But Hermione remembered the morning when they all woke to find that the harshest reality had not yet come crashing down on any of them entirely. It was the quiet, the silence that undid them all.

The silence had lasted for two and a half months. It had gotten heavier and quieter and it had almost become normal to her. She hated it.

Realisation dawned on her as her hands clenched on the scratched table top. She had to leave, she had to get out. She could not handle the desperate taint in the air, the empty space that now hung between everyone she loved.

She opened her hand to look at the small, crushed crane in her palm. It was this letter that would allow her to do it.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

I'M NO HEROINE

_"When you look at me, do you see my purpose? Do you see my pride?"_

Hermione leaped to her feet, fresh excitement and guilt crashing through the atrophy her mind had sunk into. Hadn't McGonagall made it clear that they weren't to be living at the school? She could live on her own, free of the burden of other people's opinions and feelings. That would mean she would have to find somewhere else to live and apparate to and from Hogwarts each day. She could be alone, take care of herself alone and focus on only her own feelings. But where could she go?

Harry came through the kitchen door at that moment, interrupting her thoughts. His face was flushed and glowing from the exercise of the match and he grinned at Hermione as he made his way over to the sink to fill up a glass of water.

"What's up with you?" He asked breathlessly, in between gulps. She had been standing with her palms pressed against the table, breathing heavily. She sunk back into her chair.

"You know you could just use _Aguamenti." _She said distractedly, nodding towards his glass and deflecting his question.

He grinned again and shrugged, wiping his sweaty forehead on his sleeve. "Yeah I know. Force of habit I guess."

Hermione gave a feeble laugh and fell silent. Harry frowned slightly. "You alright?" He asked.

"Yes!" She replied with a little too much enthusiasm. "Yes I'm fine. Really."

Harry raised an eye brow and went to sit beside her at the table.

"What's wrong Hermione?" He asked bluntly, his brow creased with concern.

Hermione watched as the condensation on Harry's glass formed droplets that sunk slowly down to the table where the wood almost immediately absorbed it. She took a deep breath.

"I don't know." She said. "I was just thinking about this." She stretched out her hand and put the letter in front of Harry, watching his face carefully. He glanced down at it quickly and then back at her.

"What about it?" He was trying to sound non-committal but Hermione could hear the underlying anxiety in his voice.

"Oh you know, just where I'll live, how I'll pay for everything… That sort of thing." She pulled a hair band from around her wrist and tied her hair up into a pony tail as she spoke, trying not to look at her friend.

Harry scoffed. "Well you'll live here, obviously. Molly and Arthur love having you here, and Ron…-" He stopped and looked away from her.

"What about Ron, Harry?" Hermione asked with just a hint of defiance, jutting her chin out and narrowing her eyes.

Harry flinched in response but did not saying anything. Hermione sighed and leaned forward, resting her forehead on her hand. She turned over the many different possible explanations she could give him in her mind before she decided to just be honest. He was her oldest friend, he deserved her honesty.

"I don't know if I want to be here anymore Harry. It's not… It's just not really working for me." She looked up at Harry quickly, waiting for his reaction. He remained blank faced but she noticed, panicking, that the happy light that had glowed in his eyes moments earlier, had gone out.

"What do you mean?" He asked in a small voice.

She sighed. "I mean that… Oh I don't know Harry! There are plenty of reasons why I wouldn't want to live here anymore."

"Such as?" He said, quieter still.

"Such as," She hesitated. "Such as I don't know how I can cope anymore with living in a place so full of sadness. The battle is over. It's won. I can't keep quietly drowning myself in all this regret. And I can't just sit by and watch as all of you do it either. I want to try my best to move on."

Harry's hands had clenched into tight fists, his knuckles white under the pressure. "And you think running away will fix that?" He hissed. "You think leaving your friends behind is going to make it all better?"

"Harry, no." She reached across the table to lay her hands on his clenched fists but he jerked away from her. "It's not you or Ginny or even Ron. It's just all of it, all of us holed up together, it's not making anyone happy. I'm finding it hard to cope." Her voice was pleading. She wanted him to understand.

"You think leaving behind the man that loves you is the right thing to do because you can't _handle _it anymore?"

"Harry!"

"_Can't take the pressure, Hermione_?"

For a moment Hermione could really believe Harry once played host to a piece of Voldemort's soul. The cruelty of his question made her very bones ache. She slammed her hand down on the table and stood, her chair falling backwards and crashing to the floor as she did so. Harry slowly got to his feet and stared down at her, his face full of acid, and she almost flinched as he raised a hand to run fingers through his hair.

She took a ragged breath and snatched the letter up off the table. "I'm surprised that you have not gathered yet, Harry Potter, that the 'man who loves me' would much prefer to sleep in a drain than share a bed with me! And personally, I think I deserve better than that _particular_ brand of love! I'm sorry that I am not Saint Ginny, letting him walk all over me and torture me over and over again all in the name of love!"

"THAT'S LOYALTY!" Harry shouted, pointing his finger in Hermione's face.

Her eyes filled with traitorous tears that welled and spilt down her cheeks. She ignored them and slapped his hand away from her. "No Harry," She said, her tone bitter and her voice shaking. "_That _is cowardice!"

The air hung still between them. Hermione noticed that the muffled voices that had filtered into the kitchen earlier had stopped. Harry looked for a moment as if he might hit her, his eyes shone with rage; then, the fight almost visibly leaked out of him and he sunk slowly back into the chair he had been occupying before the argument and rested his head on his arms. Hermione stood and stared down at him resolutely. Her hands shook.

Tentative steps approached them and Ginny appeared at Harry's side. She placed her arms around his shoulders and whispered gently into his ear. After a moment she looked up and gave Hermione a reproachful look. Hermione wondered if the younger girl had heard the latter part of their exchange.

Hermione's skin burned. Ginny treated him as if he had some sort of terminal illness! "_Enabler!_" She wanted to scream, "_He is like this because YOU allow it!_"

She turned away, intending to flee to her bedroom, as Ginny shook her head slightly before looking back at Harry. Hermione stopped short as she noticed Ron standing uncomfortably slouched in the doorway. She stared at him, mentally daring him to look back at her, to lock eyes with her again. She saw his eyes flit to hers and away again just as quickly.

"Ginny," He grunted. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah. I think so." The young red head replied, giving her brother a meaningful look.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she wanted, more than ever, to be away from them. She turned on her heel and it was all she could do not to run up the stairs. Once inside the room that had once been Ginny's, she closed the door hastily behind her and paced backwards and forwards, trying to form a plan in her head. She wasn't going to apologise anymore, she had enough of that. And that's what they'd expect of her. They'd want her to say sorry. Their problems weren't hers anymore. It was time to start her retreat. She could write to McGonagall, request her help perhaps?

_She could go home._

The thought crashed through her mind like a blow to the face. Suddenly her hands were shaking again and she shook her head. She couldn't go home. Not like this. She could not bring herself to face her parents. They didn't deserve to suffer her and her life at the moment. They were happy where they were anyway. Yes. They were happier in Australia.

She would write to McGonagall.

Hermione rushed across the room and pulled a piece of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink from her dilapidated beaded bag and placed them on floor in front of her as she sat down on the floor boards. She began to write.

_Professor,_

_I have recently received your letter regarding my continued education at Hogwarts._

_I understand entirely the lack of space within the castle and would be happy to live at another location. At present I would not desire to continue my residence at the Burrow and would like your assistance in finding other accommodation. I am happy to work for room and board. I would like to move as soon as possible if that can be arranged._

_I look forward to hearing from you regarding this matter._

_Regards,_

_Hermione Granger_

Hermione folded the letter, resolving to gather her courage and go back down stairs to send it. Harry and Ginny would have surely retreated to their room now after that performance.

As she opened her bedroom door, she heard familiar thudding footsteps moving up the stairs towards her.

"Ron." The statement was almost a whisper.

The stairwell was dark but she could still see his hulking outline frozen a few feet to her left. She made her way out onto the landing, closing the bedroom door behind her, plunging them both into darkness.

"Ron… Please. Can you look at me?" She asked shakily. Slowly, he turned a walked towards her until they were a foot apart. She could see his hands buried in his pockets and could feel his eyes on her face.

"I'm… I'm leaving."

She heard a sharp intake of breath but he said nothing. Before she could stop it a sob escaped her lips and without thinking she flung herself into his arms. She buried her face in the nape of his neck and cried, letting the pain fly from her in agonizing waves. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades as she clung to him and smelt his familiar, earthy smell and for just a fraction of a second, she felt better.

_Please Ron. Please. I need you._

She pressed her lips to his, without waiting for a response, and rested her forehead against his. Almost imperceptibly his weight shifted and she could feel his arms moving to encircle her, to finally love her. But they didn't. His large hands wrapped around Hermione's upper arms and gently but forcibly pulled them from around his neck. He pushed her away and began walking up the stairs towards his bedroom.

She sniffed and hugged herself. "Ron?" Her voice sounded too calm. "When I go, I won't tell you where I am. I won't write to you. But... But if really wanted to talk to me again, there's always the deluminator right?"

She saw his silhouette nod before disappearing into his room.

She hugged herself as she watching his retreating back disappear into the darkness. Gritting her teeth she tried to force the pain back inside of her, tried to swallow all the shame and guilt that tasted like bile in her throat. Her tears dried up as she stood for a few minutes in that attitude, her eyes pressed closed by the heels of her hands.

Once she had hiccupped herself to silence and wiped the wetness from her cheeks and eyes, she wound her way down the stairs. She walked through the now empty kitchen and out into the garden, where Mrs Weasley was still seated at the wrought iron table. She made her way across the grass, now stained golden in the sunset, gulping breaths of fresh air, hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Molly?"

Mrs Weasley turned to her slowly and gave her a rare smile. "Yes dear?"

"Would it be alright if I used your owl? I want to send a letter to Hogwarts."

"Of course dear! Have you decided to go back this year?" Asked Mrs Weasley.

"Yeah." Hermione said, trying to fix a smile to her face, silently glad that the older woman seemed rational.

"It's only a pity you couldn't convince Ron and Harry to join you! But you know them, both so headstrong!" Said Mrs Weasley, laughing.

Hermione gave a feeble chuckle and fell silent. Mrs Weasley looked up at her.

"Is everything alright dear?"

Hermione swallowed hard and felt tears welling in her eyes again. "I'm fine!" She managed to choke out.

Mrs Weasley gave her a doubtful smile and took her hand. She pulled Hermione down to kneel beside her and Hermione lowered her head onto the older woman's lap. Mrs Weasley stroked Hermione's hair as the tears came hot and unrelenting again.

"It's alright sweetheart. It's over now. You are beautiful and kind and clever and you will be ok! You are beautiful and kind and clever and you'll be ok." Mrs Weasley's voice was quiet and soothing. It felt nice to hear that reassuring tone specifically designed by mothers. With each affirmation Hermione nodded and tried to force herself to believe it.

After half an hour seated like this, Hermione with her head rested on Mrs Weasley's knee, Mrs Weasley stroking her hair lovingly, Hermione got up.

"Thank you Molly." She said with a grateful smile.

"Anytime dear." Mrs Weasley smiled and patted Hermione's arm.

"I should go and post that letter now!" said Hermione with a watery smile.

She turned to walk away but Mrs Weasley caught her hand. Hermione looked down at her.

"Give my best to Dumbledore."

Hermione felt her stomach turn over, all the reassuring warmth fleeing from her veins. Reality came crashing back in. She groped for her sanity and forced herself to smile.

"I will."

* * *

A/N Told you I couldn't contain myself!


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

CRADLE AND ALL

_"In the daylight, everything is so gory."_

One day blended tirelessly into the last as Hermione waited anxiously for McGonagall's reply. The atmosphere in the Burrow was as tense as ever, with Harry, Ron and Ginny relentlessly avoiding Hermione whenever they could. Fortunately, the Burrow's layout was such that this wasn't hard. Harry had set up camp in Ron's room after the final battle and as his condition worsened, Ginny slowly moved in and Ron slowly moved out. So Hermione was left alone in Ginny's room and Ron moved into Percy's old bedroom. His older brother had long lived in London and, despite his reconciliation with his family, had no desire to give up his new found independence.

So it was that the four younger inhabitants of the house rarely had to communicate as they remained confined to their own spaces. Once upon a time, Hermione thought that dinner might have been a problem. Once upon a time Mrs Weasley would have forced them all to eat together. But Mrs Weasley never cooked anymore and Hermione couldn't remember the last time they had all sat around the old wooden dining table to eat a meal together.

After a few days, Hermione began to notice that as a result of the heightened tension, an unofficial system of shifts seemed to have been established around the use of the kitchen. Harry, Ron and Ginny would eat just on dark, if Harry could be persuaded to leave his room. Either way, Hermione knew to avoid the eating area at that time because Ginny would inevitably be down there cooking for the three of them. After they were done, Arthur would get home and he and Molly would sit in the garden and eat the sandwiches he prepared. Mrs Weasley didn't seem to be inclined to eat anything different and Hermione would have eaten with them, but she found after doing this once that the silence was too heavy and spending time around Molly just made her sad. So, in the end, Hermione would wait for everyone to go to bed and, when she was sure the house was sleeping, she would drift downstairs for her own meal. Once every two days or so, George would stay at the Burrow and late at night, he would join her. They would sit silently at the table together and eat, each lost in their own torture. Hermione wondered why he favoured her company over the others and she almost wished he would eat with someone else. She loved George but could not handle the quiet. She felt as if she hadn't spoken a single word in a week.

She spent most of her time during the day down in the village of Ottery St Catchpole, browsing aimlessly through the muggle shops and sipping tea at a little café in the main street.

Hermione thought it suited her to be distant. She liked the feeling of no longer having to justify her every word. It was a relief. With everyone so jumpy now, the words "what's that supposed to mean?" were heard regularly and Hermione liked that she could speak and think openly when she was alone, without having to answer that question for herself, let alone anyone else. She would have appreciated the freedom a little more if she had someone to talk to though. Someone objective and intelligent, someone impartial. Someone who would talk to her about books and potions. Someone who didn't want to talk about the fucking war.

Someone on her side.

She decided she would put energy into finding such a person when she got back to Hogwarts. Even if she had to bribe a first year into studying with her in the library.

On the seventh day waiting for McGonagall's reply, Hermione was strolling back towards the Burrow having decided to leave the village early as it looked like rain. After a week of silence she felt suitably numb to her pain but at the same time, she was restless and nervous and somewhat eager for something to happen.

She was dwelling on this thought when she noticed that as she was approaching the house, Ginny walked through of the back door and came out to meet her.

Hermione watched as the other woman came to a standstill, crossed her arms and waited for her to draw near.

"Hi." said Hermione wearily.

Ginny nodded stiffly. "Hi Hermione."

For a moment, Ginny seemed disinclined to say anything more which made Hermione feel uneasy. "What's wrong? Is Harry ok?"

"No. But that's not really your concern. I wanted to ask you a question."

Hermione sighed, not at all surprised by Ginny's brisk manner. She understood. Ginny needed someone to blame, someone to get angry at, and Hermione was an easy target. She had made herself a convenient enemy when she had silently refused to apologise for upsetting Harry that day in the kitchen.

She nodded and gestured for Ginny to go in.

"Why are you still here?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. Ginny most likely knew the answer to this question and Hermione found it difficult to understand why she was asking it. "Because I have nowhere else to go."

Ginny scoffed. "Bullshit, Hermione. Why don't you go to Australia and get your parents?"

Hermione resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "Well for one, term starts in a week and two, you know I can't do that. I don't want to bring them back to England. If you could spare your parents from experiencing all of this, you would leave them out of it too."

Ginny threw her hands in the air, frustrated. "Well it can't be any better staying here! We all know you're leaving so why don't you just go? Just... Just tell me what your plans are Hermione! How much longer are you going to be here?"

Hermione appreciated the logical approach, even if it was through a veil of anger.

"I wrote to McGonagall about a week ago and asked if she could help me out. She should reply soon and I'll be out of your hair. If she doesn't have a solution, I'll go to the Leaky Cauldron or something." She paused. "I'm here too, Ginny. Harry's my best friend, you think I like seeing him like this? And Ron..."

Hermione swallowed hard. She didn't want to talk to Ginny about Ron. She didn't want to talk to anyone about Ron.

Ginny's eyes softened a little. She sighed. "I'm sorry about him. I don't know what he's doing."

"I don't really think it matters. He's doing it and that's that."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"Of course I have! He's not interested." Hermione's voice shook. She itched to leave the conversation and go back to the safety of her room.

The other woman nodded and ran a hand through her hair. "Ok. So another day or so?"

"Pretty much."

Hermione walked past the redhead towards the house.

Ginny called after her. "Hermione?"

Hermione turned around, her fists clenching and unclenching. She didn't want to talk anymore.

"When you go... You'll let me know where you are? Just in case?"

Hermione nodded stiffly and walked through the back door. She made a beeline for her room and collapsed onto her bed, throwing her hands up over her face, waiting for the tears to come. But they didn't. All she could do was stare at the ceiling, her mind moving sluggishly from one painful thought to the next. Rain begun to rattle on the roof, bringing with it the sort of gloom that only a grey sky could bring and pushing her further into her thoughts. After what seemed like minutes but must have been hours as the sky was dark and the moon was peeking through the clouds, an old and very grumpy looking barn owl tapped sullenly on the window of her room.

Hermione leapt off the bed and yanked the window open, letting the owl step in, ruffling its feathers. Her hands shook as she detached the letter from the barn owl's proffered leg and lit the lantern by her bed with her wand.

She carefully broke the wax seal of the rather thick envelope as she sat down on the floor, her impatience almost getting the better of her. She squinted in the candlelight and devoured the letters contents.

_ Miss Granger,_

_I am glad to hear of your acceptance of my offer and equally disappointed that Mr Potter and Mr Weasley would not be joining you. Unfortunately many of your classmates have thus far rejected this opportunity but there are others who, like yourself, have chosen to participate. _

_I was also surprised at your desire to leave the Burrow but I have done as you requested and I am able to offer you two possible alternatives._

_The first is the possibility of your returning to Hogwarts as a resident again. I was surprised by the lack of enthusiasm around my offer and have thus discovered that the school could accommodate any extra students that wish to return. I would be happy to make such arrangements for you._

_As to the other alternative, I have found that Mr Flourish of Flourish and Blotts bookshop is renting a small flat above his shop in Diagon Alley. I have been in correspondence with him and he seems to be quite taken with the idea of your living there. I assume he remembers you as a child. He has also mentioned that he would be happy for you to work for him on weekends to pay for your room and board._

_I have been assured by him that the flat is not in total disrepair. I hope that is of some comfort._

_Reply to me promptly and I will make the necessary arrangements. _

_Regards,_

_Professor McGonagall_

_P.s I have included a list of your school books as term begins in a week._

Hermione took a deep, excited breath and immediately took up a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill to scratch a hurried reply.

_Professor,_

_Thank you for enclosing the list of equipment and books I will need, I have been eager to begin my preparations to study._

_I also thank you for your offer to re-establish myself at the school but I would prefer to take up Mr Flourish on his offer. I believe I would benefit from the independence these living arrangements will give me._

_Please advise me as soon as possible when it would be agreeable for me to move in._

_Regards,_

_Hermione Granger_

Hermione attached her reply to the waiting barn owl's leg and opened the window again. She watched the owl swiftly disappear into the down pour. She turned towards her bedroom door, bracing herself for the reception this news would get from her friends, if she could pluck up the courage to tell them. She began packing up her belongings, knowing as she did that the moment the sun rose the next morning, she would leave for Diagon Alley, even if she did have to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a few days. She didn't want another stilted and painful conversation like the one she'd had that day. She knew she had officially worn out her welcome. At least to some of the Burrow's occupants.

The guilt burned in her chest when she thought of Harry, her best friend, broken and disabled as he was and she almost regretted what she had said and what she was about to do. But the detached and logical part of her mind swiftly reminded her that she had to care for herself, that she needed to ensure her own survival before she worried about his, or she would be entirely useless to him.

She would come back to Harry, to them all, and she would help. And that promise to herself, made as the rain crashed down on the Burrow's tin roof, was the only thing that could convince her to leave at all.

* * *

A/N I couldn't resist.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

JOYFUL GIRL

_"Because the world owes me nothing, and we owe each other the world."_

Her goodbyes to the Burrow were strained and harsh. Ginny gave her a serious look and a hug that lacked heart; Ron nodded gruffly and Molly cried. Hermione was uncomfortably glad that at least someone was sad to see her leave. The others, including Harry, were nowhere to be seen.

"See you at school." Said Ginny stiffly.

"Yeah," Hermione responded, "See you there."

The air hung between them heavily and she sensed there was more that the younger woman wanted to say but Hermione didn't have the energy for another of those conversations with Ginny. She turned quickly on the spot before Ginny could add anything more and the suffocating darkness engulfed her.

When she opened her eyes and wiped the rain water from her lashes, she found herself in the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. As she made her way into Diagon Alley she adjusted her coat and tucked a few stray curls back into her scarf, hoping that she did not look as awful as she felt.

It was strange, she thought, to be walking through Diagon Alley now. The last time she had seen it, many of the shops had been boarded up and witches and wizards had been slumped in their doorways, begging for wands. People had shrunk from her in fear; but of course she had been wearing another's face then. That incarnation of the usually busy and bright street had felt ruthless and terrifying. Though that might have had something to do with why she was there.

Sometimes, Hermione had awful premonitions of what the world might have been like if they hadn't defeated Voldemort. And that imagine of Diagon Alley always preceded them. She couldn't imagine living in a place that was dark like that, that was cold and unforgiving and unsafe like Diagon Alley was that day. During the war, there had been something to fight for, no one was winning or losing, it was just all out battle. But if they'd lost, if Harry had died, that darkness would have stretched across generations, across decades. She found it hard enough _fighting _that darkness, but imagine _living_ it?

The thought made her shiver. Voldemort stood for all the most evil things in the world, murder, rape, indoctrination, hate. And for that she pitied him. Like any muggle drug addict, like any man who hit his wife or any mother that neglected her children, he was brought up by a system that let him down. Someone drove him to what he was and Hermione couldn't help feeling scared that all the children left behind now, orphan or not, were being brought up by the same system that created Voldemort. Was it worth risking it to just trust that they wouldn't end up like that? All it would take was one, one child to be looked over, abused, discarded, and that child could be like him. That child could grow up to recreate the darkness.

Kingsley Shacklebolt may be Minister now, and he may be stronger and smarter than Cornelius Fudge; he may be kinder and possess far more humility than Rufus Scrimgeour, but he wasn't the system. Men like Lucius Malfoy were the Ministry and women like Delores Umbridge wrote it's laws.

And ultimately, the laws and the Ministry were still corrupt, Voldemort or no. They created him, they fought to bring him down and they would create another incarnation of him if they didn't change.

History repeated itself until humanity learnt the lessons.

Hermione mentally shook herself. She wished desperately that she could avoid following that train of thought to its end. It only served to make her want to look over her shoulder. It only made her panic. She reminded herself that Diagon Alley was almost back to the normal, back to the bustling place she had known in her childhood. Normal aside from a slight chill feeling that hung in the air which had nothing to do with the temperature.

But what could she do? As clichéd as it was, she was just one person. She might have a little influence as a result of her fame, but nothing that could really change things.

Her fame was a burden and a blessing. She hated it though it stroked at her ego. Not that she'd had any opportunity to experience it's results first hand as she hadn't left the Burrow properly in nearly three months, but she'd gotten the letters, she'd read the Daily Prophet and, on occasion, Witch Weekly. She knew what people said about her, Harry Potter's left lieutenant, the brains of the Golden Trio, the brilliant _muggleborn_.

She wondered, if she were pureblood, would she be known as the brilliant _pureblood_? Or would she just be a brilliant Witch?

As she walked down Diagon Alley, crowded despite the rain, she kept her head down, not wishing to make eye contact with anyone that she might know who would want to trade pleasantries. This was easier said than done. Whispers followed her through the crowd, heads turned and people pointed. She hoped, desperately, that no one would feel the need to approach her.

That didn't stop the whispers though, they scratched through her head like nails on a chalk board. Her hands shook and she felt a sweat break out on the back of her neck as panic began to leak through her body.

_Oh no. Not here._

She bit her tongue to stop it from convulsing in her mouth, causing her to feel like her throat was closing up as the beginnings of an panic attack rolled over her, urging her to turn heel and run. Her vision darken around the edges. She wanted to lie down on the cobblestones and feel the dirty rain water soak cold into her flushed cheeks. But that wasn't what war heroes did! War heroes didn't lie down in the middle of a busy street to rock backwards and forwards and cry. They were supposed to hold their heads high and soak up the attention. She wished she were arrogant. Things would be so much easier if she were arrogant.

_Just keep walking. Just keep walking._

She pressed her fingers against her wand in her pocket, knowing she couldn't hold it while she felt like this. The last time she'd held her wand in her hand as some form of comfort while she panicked, she'd set half the fields surrounding the Burrow on fire. Instead, she took deep, careful breaths as she walked and started the now familiar exercise she always did when panic attacks got the better of her. She would begin by counting five things she could see around her, then five things she could smell, feel, taste and hear.

_Ok. Focus. Take a breath, and count._

_One, there's Eyelops Owl Emporium; two, a witch with black tree tattooed up her arm; three, a little puddle of frogspawn on the cobblestones outside the apothecary; four, the loud sign of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes poking up over the roof of Ollivanders; five, Draco Malfoy walking out of Quality Quidditch Supplies._

_Wait. _

_Draco Malfoy?_

Hermione was so shocked at his presence in Diagon Alley, (in fact his presence anywhere other than Azkaban was the shock) she entirely forgot to keep panicking.

Her feet suddenly changed direction and made to follow him, if only to demand to know why he wasn't rotting in some tiny, dank cell somewhere. She knew enough of the Malfoys to know that their fortune had prevented their incarceration from being over publicised but she knew they were, at least, in Azkaban. Or so she'd thought. Perhaps it was just Lucius and Narcissa?

"Miss Granger!" A familiar voice called out behind her and her stomach churned. She tried to ignore it and quickened her pace, weaving her way through the crowd towards Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Hermione Granger!" the voice called again. She noticed with distress that more people were turning their heads to look in her direction. Malfoy turned too and caught her eye. For the briefest of moments he looked utterly terrified. Then he disappeared. Hermione was baffled. That wasn't like Malfoy, he was supposed to sneer condescendingly and raise a patronising brow as if to say, yes, he was here in Diagon Alley, buying broom handle polish and what the fuck did she think she was going to do about it?

Suddenly, a hand closed around her arm and she fought off the instinct to draw her wand. That didn't stop her fingers curling around it in her pocket though. She turned to see the red and shining face of Horace Slughorn.

"My word!" He puffed. "I'm an old man, Miss Granger! Running through a crowded street does nothing for my constitution!"

"Sorry Professor! I didn't hear you!" She plastered a grin onto her face as the old man wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief drawn from the pocket of his tight waistcoat.

"Where are you off to my dear?" He asked.

"Flourish and Blotts." She replied.

"Ah, off to buy your school things I suppose?"

"No, no, sir, I live in the flat above the shop." She rolled the words around on her tongue to see how they tasted.

"Oh yes! Minerva did mention something about that! Well! Do allow me to escort you!" Before she could reply, he took her arm and fell into step beside her. She turned her head, trying to get another glimpse of Malfoy as Slughorn steered her down the street. She longed briefly for Harry's invisibility cloak, maybe she could have followed him. Found out what he was up to. Because if he was out in public, mingling with the populace, it couldn't be anything good.

She dropped her head and smiled sadly. The Harry of their sixth year would have been immensely proud of her paranoia.

She realised with a start that Slughorn was still speaking to her, completely unaware of her preoccupation

"Yes, I couldn't resist saying a quick hello! As I was saying the other day to Barnabus Cuffe, you know, editor of the _Daily Prophet_; I am monstrously glad to hear of your returning to Hogwarts! I told him, and told him quite rightly I think, that I was certainly one of your favourite professors and of course how incredibly talented you are. But everyone knows that! How surprised he was to know you were muggle born too! He is not prejudiced of course, but you know, old habits die hard and all that." He said breathlessly.

Her head snapped around to look at Slughorn.

"I would have thought that considering recent events, the people of influence in our society would rethink their opinions." Said Hermione coldly.

Professor Slughorn spluttered indignantly but she continued before he could respond.

"After all professor," She said, "There is not so much difference between these ridiculous assumptions about pureblood supremacy and the ideals of a death eater."

"Well, uh, the Dark Lord is-" Professor Slughorn began, but Hermione cut him off.

"Dead. Yes, I know. But do you really believe he will be the last? If these ideals are not stamped out of the wizarding world entirely, there will always be another Dark Lord and another battle to eradicate him." She said fervently.

Professor Slughorn was silent. He stared down at Hermione with a mixture of awe and fear.

"You truly have a brilliant mind my dear. But I do hope it is not entirely consumed by thoughts of this dark a nature." He said with forced joviality.

She smiled and shook her head. "I'm sorry Professor. After everything that has happened, it's a sensitive topic. And would be for any muggle born I think. But you're right, sir. I will try not be so morbid in Potions. You'll still be teaching I hope?"

"Of course!" He exclaimed, rubbing his hand jovially over his vast stomach, "Never would I give up the opportunity to help in the moulding of young minds such as yours! And naturally, I will throw the occasional soiree in my quarters as usual. Just a few select students. I hope to include you on my guest list?"

"Yes, of course sir."

The older man smiled down at her fondly and she did her best to return the gesture. She didn't like to admit it but she found his company less abhorrent now than she once did, despite his rather right wing opinions. Her ego needed a boost and for the first time in quite a while, she felt she had something to look forward to. She rather liked the idea of spending some evenings occupying her time with him and his "select few students". At least she would not be entirely outcast and alone. Perhaps she wouldn't have to bribe a first year to study with her after all.

They rounded a corner and came to the entrance of Flourish and Blotts where Professor Slughorn released her arm, bided her farewell and bounced off down the road.

She felt momentarily bad for snapping at him as it wasn't like her to be so impertinent with a teacher but then it occurred to her that maybe she _was_ arrogant and just hadn't fully embraced it yet. Surprisingly, the thought bolstered her spirits.

Hermione stared into the dark, familiar shop in front of her, then cast her eyes upwards. There was a small balcony jutting out over the street which she supposed belonged to her flat.

She entered the shop, the aura of the place wrapping itself around her like a hug, and found herself immediately confronted with Mr Flourish as he seemed to materialise suddenly behind the counter.

"Hogwarts, eh? Year?" He barked through his handlebar moustache.

"Seventh, but-" She began.

"Right. Well I've got a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 7 _right here, but I'll have to get the others from the back." He made to retreat through a door in the back of the shop.

"Mr Flourish! I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger. Professor McGonagall said-"

"Oh yes! Yes!" He hurried around the counter and grasped her hand in both of his. "Such a pleasure! My, I didn't even recognise you! Such a pleasure to have you here!"

Hermione laughed nervously. "Thank you Mr Flourish, really, I couldn't be more grateful, I-"

He waved her off and began to hobble towards the back door. "Don't give it another thought. Now follow me, follow me. It's just through here."

He led her through the door and into a vast room full of books and boxes. She inhaled the familiar scent of fresh parchment and couldn't help but smile. This was certainly her place. In the back corner was a small spiral staircase that led to the floor above, which Mr Flourish began to climb with Hermione in tow. The shiny red paint that covered it, flaked off in her hands.

"I remember the first time you came in here, I do. Always took great pleasure in books. Tells you a lot about a person, I think. Young people are too careless about books these days. Sad, very sad. But not you! I think you'll be plenty happy here. Of course, I'm happy to have you, after all you've done. Wouldn't be here if it weren't for you and your friends." He rambled over his shoulder.

Hermione felt her stomach clench but tried to ignore the sensation. She was supposed to be arrogant, remember? And arrogant people don't get bashful about praise.

They came out on a dark little landing, lit by a single candle in a votive on the wall, with nothing on it but a door. Mr Flourish produced a great set of keys from the folds of his robes and opened the door with a heave.

Hermione followed him into the flat and felt her heart warm to it immediately. She couldn't help but grin like a child in a sweet shop. A set of old wooden double doors led from her lounge room onto the balcony she had seen from the street. The room was small but with a deliciously high ceiling and faded wooden floor boards. A large, old couch sat by the wall like a cat reclining after a large meal, with a weather beaten wooden coffee table in front of it. The floor was swathed in an impossibly huge, threadbare Persian rug covered in patterns that seemed to dance when she was looking at it out of the corner of her eye. The opposite wall was hidden by a vast bookshelf which made Hermione shiver in excitement as she went over to run her hands over the dark, stained wood. Mr Flourish couldn't help but notice her enthusiasm.

"I'll warrant it won't take you long to fill that up eh?" He said and she grinned in response, resisting the urge to jump up and down in excitement. "This here's the living area, the front door's a bit dodgy, you've gotta give it a bit of a heave to get it open. The kitchen's just here."

She followed him into the cooking area and grinned. "It's perfect." She said quietly. "It's all perfect."

The tiles were a brilliant azul blue, some cracked and loose and a window with a chipped frame that looked out over London sat on the opposite wall. Hermione wandered over to it, staring out into the bustling street. She felt as if she was on the cusp between the wizarding world and the muggle one, with her balcony looking out over Diagon alley and her kitchen looking out to London.

"_Where you belong._"A rogue thought drifted through her head. She frowned.

"Well I'm glad you like it," Said Mr Flourish, snapping her out of her contemplation, "It's been mighty hard to find tenants for this place."

Hermione couldn't imagine anyone who would not love such a beautiful little flat.

"Oh really? Why?"

"It's right on the dividing line, see? You can hear it, makes a bit of a buzzing noise. It's from the enchantments that keep Diagon Alley hidden from the muggles."

Hermione nodded. She had noticed the buzzing, but she felt soothed by it rather than annoyed.

"Does the buzzing bother people?" She asked.

"Oh no. It's not the buzzing. Most folk are suspicious you see? They think it's bad luck to sleep on a dividing line. Like having one foot in and one foot out. Not that an educated person believes in that sort of nonsense."

Hermione laughed. She wasn't generally suspicious and the wizarding world had many eccentricities that she found silly so she wasn't entirely bothered by this information. She would, of course, read up on it though.

Mr Flourish gestured for her to follow him again. "The bedroom is through here."

He led her out of the kitchen and through a tiny hallway leading off the living area to the only other room in the flat. The ceiling in here was also high, but slanted with exposed beams. A large picture window sat on the opposite wall, again looking at to Diagon Alley. A door next to her nightstand led to a quaint little bathroom, with the same blue tiles that she loved so much was an ornate wooden wardrobe in the corner and a huge, luxurious looking four poster bed to match. On top of the bed sat a round ball of orange fur and Hermione shrieked in delight.

"Crookshanks!" She ran over to the bed and scooped him up in her arms, scratching him behind the ears as he looked up and purred at her. She held him to her chest, staring around at her new home.

"So, home sweet home!" The old man said. "You won't want for much, but you might have to buy your own cooking things. Other than that," He pulled off two keys from his huge set and dropped them into her hand, "There you go, this one opens your door and the big one opens the front door of the shop." The great set of keys disappeared back into his robes and he clapped his hands together, smiling. "That's about it, I think! I'll leave you to get settled. And if you need anything, anything at all, just give me a holler." He made to walk out the front door as Hermione deposited Crookshanks bank on the bed and followed him. "Oh and you needn't bother thinking about starting work until a few weeks into term. Get yourself comfortable first, then we'll talk about it."

"That's very kind of you Mr Flourish, thank you!" Said Hermione breathlessly. The old man hobbled out the door with a wave of his hand and Hermione heaved it closed behind him.

The living room was bathed the in afternoon sunlight that was peeking through the rain clouds and she collapsed on to the couch, which she found to be soft and comfortable. Crookshanks sauntered out of the bedroom and rubbed himself against her legs. She took her old and tattered beaded bag out of her coat pocket and laid it, with a loud clunk, on the coffee table in front of her.

"You like it here?" She said to Crookshanks as he leapt up onto her lap. He purred in response. She curled up on her side, her head resting on the arm of the couch, and closed her eyes. Comforted by her cats warmth and the dull thrumming rhythm of his purr, she drifted into a deep and, for the first time in many months, untroubled sleep.

* * *

Atlantean_Diva - Thanks so much for your reviews! it really warms my heart to know that this story is making you think!

The relationship between Hermione and Ron and why it failed will unfold in time, but no matter how harsh he seems now (and it get's worse) don't judge him too harshly!

All I can say about Harry and Ginny is... Well.. You will see. Hehehe.

I think the ultimate moral of this story (underneath all the subtly political statements haha) is that ALL of them, Hermione, Draco, Ron, Harry and Ginny and flawed. Really flawed. They're all incredibly damaged and sometimes behave like horrible people. So if you don't like Ginny or Ron right now, it's likely you're going to not like Hermione sometimes either. Because she's capable of being just as awful.

Please, keep reviewing! I'd genuinely love to hear more of your thoughts on this story.

leachlover09 - Thanks! Stay tuned, I hope you like where it goes!

looking-glass - Aw! I'm glad others are effected like me. I cried while writing it (especially the end of chapter 2). I think it's so interesting you pointed that out about Hermione taking so much for the two of them and they seem to have forgotten. But, I think Hermione probably feels the same way and has the same kind of thinking, and what kind of person does that make her?


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

DILATE

_"I wake up in the darkness and I don't have the will anymore to wonder."_

Hermione awoke later that night to the sound of traffic drifting through her kitchen window and the smell of rain on asphalt. Her watch told her it was eight o'clock.

She stretched slowly, Crookshanks leaping off her as she moved. Grunting, she readjusted, rolling onto her back, her arm thrown up over her face. Her neck ached and she felt frustrated that she had fallen asleep in such an odd position. She pulled her wand from her discarded coat lying on the floor next her couch and muttered a quiet "_lumos_".

It took her a few minutes to come fully into consciousness and realise where she was. With her wand in her hand, casting its eerie blue glow across her flat, she took in her surroundings again. The differences to what she was used to jolted her. At the Burrow, all she could hear late at night was the wind in the trees, the owls hooting dolefully and the chirps of the cicadas that lived in the long grass. Here, she could hear distant voices, as if there might be a restaurant nearby, the hum of the traffic and the very soft discordant buzzing that was the dividing line, the concentration of magic from the spells hiding Diagon Alley from the muggle world.

The contentedness she had felt when she laid down on her couch that afternoon hadn't followed her into sleep but, unfortunately, the dream she had been having had followed her when she woke.

It wasn't so much a dream as a memory of Ron. It was _always_ Ron. And not in some romantic or poetic way either, he was just _there_ most of the time. Sitting in the background, watching. Tonight had, most unhappily, been an entirely real memory of a night they had spent together almost three weeks after the final battle.

Before he'd changed.

The worst thing about it, the thing that was making her heart ache, was his smell. His smell had been in the dream memory and she felt, still, like if she gathered the t-shirt she was wearing up in her hands, she'd find his scent still lingering on it.

It was hot that night, the air thick and syrupy with humidity. Ron and Hermione had decided to go for a walk around the fields surrounding the house. With Ginny still sharing a room with Hermione, and Harry still sharing a room with Ron, the two of them never did get much privacy. And somehow, whispered conversations that were more touch than words in the Burrow's drawing room after everyone had gone to bed just didn't seem enough.

They never talked about the war, or the hunt for the Horcruxes those days. Ron seemed to feel like there wasn't much to say and Hermione felt the opposite. For her there was so much to say she had no idea how to articulate it, didn't know where to start. The lights and colours of the final battle still fizzed through her mind like sparklers when she was sleeping.

As a result, they walked in silence that night, through the house and, hand in hand, out the back door. They beat a familiar path into the fields, lit by the silvery blue light of the moon. The only sound was the wind shifting the long grass and their plodding footsteps as they walked across the plain, away from the Burrow. They came together to a hill that rose above the others and proceeded up the incline.

"You know Harry and Ginny are most likely copulating in your bed right now." Hermione said with a quiet laugh.

Ron snorted. "Bloody hell, Hermione, don't sugar coat it or anything. I was trying not to think about it!"

Hermione giggled. "Yeah well, it's not like you and me wouldn't take that chance if we had it. Maybe I should convince Ginny to bring Harry out for a moonlit stroll?"

Ron shrugged. "Nah, it's our thing." He gave her hand a light squeeze. "Can't wait to move out with you though."

"What makes you say that?"

"Dunno, just been thinking about it I guess. I mean, there's not much reason to stay here is there? And I reckon you'd make a really good housewife."

He flinched even before she raised her fist to punch his arm playfully. "Ronald! I am _not_ a housewife!"

"Ow!" He laughed and rubbed the tender spot where she had hit him. "You're getting better at that, I don't know whether to be proud or scared!"

"Scared, I think. Anyway, I need my strength to keep my househusband in line. What colour do you want your apron, dear? Magenta or lilac?"

Ron chuckled and took her hand again. They crested the top of the hill and came to stand together at its peak. Hermione ducked under his arm to nestle closer to his body. The view from their hill top took her breath away and, despite the heat, she felt as if she couldn't imagine herself anywhere but where she was, tucked into his body as they stared out at the rolling hills and plains, bathed in the moonlight. It was such a blessing that after everything they'd been through, they had this little piece of easy contentedness to hold them afterwards.

Ron turned his face into her hair. "Love you." He said quietly.

She looked at him. He didn't often say that to her. "I wasn't expecting that."

He shrugged and smiled as if to say he offered it freely.

"I love you too Ron."

Then she pulled his face down to meet hers, he didn't resist and they kissed, her lips lingering on the wet corners of his mouth.

Those were the days when he responded, when his hands wound through her hair and his stubble tickled her cheeks. Those were the days when he actually smiled when he kissed her. His body would dip between her legs and her blood would sing. She could almost see her veins glowing with it. They would lay on the ground together and he would trace the indentations the grass had left on her knees and she would brush the grass seeds off his bare back. Being with him felt merry, jovial. There was a joke in everything and Hermione loved how he offered her a break from her own seriousness.

That night was no different. She was warmly cocooned between the earth, the long grass and him. There was no insecure thought in her mind to contradict it, he loved her.

_Loved._

Back in reality her body betrayed her by reacting to the memory, while her mind desperately hacked at the bonds holding her there. Her body wanted to _feel _it. It wanted his hands and his tongue. It ignored the sounds of the traffic, ignored the smell of the rain and sent her right hand straight down between her thighs to hold her there in the dream where he touched her and loved her.

Minutes later, she cried as she came.

A shout and the sound of laughter filtering in through her kitchen window caused her to jump, her heart beating rapidly. It drew her out of the dream and into the shame. Her hands drew up to her face and covered her eyes. She sobbed quietly. Here was a man who spurned her, turned her away, and she still wanted to feel him. She wanted his love wrapped around her like a blanket, warm and safe. It burned in her chest knowing that somewhere in the world he was alone and happy without her. She missed him and it was pain like nothing she'd ever felt. Worse than Bellatrix's _crucio. _At least she'd known the _crucio _would end eventually but she was going to miss Ron forever.

Everything about what she had just done, everything about what she felt was pathetic. She was useless, wretched and ashamed and those thoughts, those _words_ began to leak through her entire body like black ink.

Recognising the well known signs in herself of an oncoming panic attack, she began to rub at her chest and her feet started to twitch. Her sobbing subsided as her breath shallowed and quickened.

"Fuck. No. It's ok. You're ok. Just a panic attack." She breathed heavily and sat up, her head spinning as she did. Somehow the words weren't as comforting when they came out of her own mouth. With a wave of her wand, the lanterns were lit. It was easier to calm down in the light. She knew that if she didn't get up, she would end up lying on that couch all night. She couldn't allow her first night in her new flat to be spent hyperventilating and pacing. She knew she'd gotten off to a bad start but she resolved not to let it remain so. She decided that despite her shaking hands and the vague dizziness she was getting, she was going to unpack.

With one last deep, shaky breath, she dragged her beaded bag across the coffee table and began to relieve it of its contents. Again and again she reached into it, pulling out whatever object she happened to grasp and putting it away. She resisted the temptation to upend it onto her lounge room floor as a confusing array of clothes, books and equipment presented themselves to her hands.

As she filled her bookshelf and wardrobe, scattering her belongings around her flat, her mind drifted and she felt calmer. Her flat was becoming more and more home like with every new addition. A photo of her and Ron and Harry on the kitchen window sill, a small crystal hanging in her bedroom window and a statue of an elephant on her nightstand. It felt warmer.

Once she was more than halfway done she thought back to the Burrow. She had a bottle of a ink, a roll of parchment and a quill set on her coffee table before she decided against writing to Harry. The quill was poised above the ink bottle before she decided against writing to Ron. Her wand was in her hand, pointing at the parchment before she decided against sending a Howler to Ginny.

She wrote, instead, to Molly.

It was a short letter, more full of polite formalities that real words. Hermione only expressed her gratitude for Molly's support and for letting her stay at the Burrow. She wanted to say more. She wanted to talk about Ron and Harry. She wanted to write pages and pages about them. But she resisted. Molly didn't need to hear her opinions.

Once finished, she lay the letter aside to post the next day and sat back on the couch, resting her hands behind her head.

As Hermione closed her eyes, she heard a familiar tapping on her balcony window. A handsome screech owl sat outside with a letter tied to its leg. She got up to open the door to retrieved it, wondering as she did who could possibly be writing to her. No one knew where she lived except McGonagall.

She sat back on her couch and unfurled the parchment. She frowned and as she continued to read it, her frown deepened.

_Hey Hermione,_

_ McGonagall told me where you were staying. _

_I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner? You only live just  
round the corner from me now and I kinda liked eating with  
you at the Burrow._

_Let me know,_

_George_

She had no idea what to make of _that_. She didn't think he'd actually liked her company on those late nights at the Burrow and had just assumed she was the least depressing option considering who his other dinner companions might have been. She didn't particularly fancy the idea of spending more evenings in morbid silence with George Weasley. She set the letter aside with the letter to his mother and sat back again, deciding she would answer it later. She didn't know whether or not she should be worried about his intentions but she knew their time together at the Burrow couldn't possibly have been considered fun.

The silence of her flat came to rest on her like disturbed dust, making her aware of its presence. She was suddenly conscious of it. Her fingers twirled absently in her hair. With her beaded bag considerably lighter, she now felt restless and uneasy. And the letter from George hadn't helped. She didn't fancy reading, there was no homework to do, the flat was relatively clean; she was bored, ultimately.

The quiet here was different. It wasn't the usual tense and heavy silence that persisted at the Burrow where laughter rang painfully in everybody's ears. This wasn't the sort that one didn't disturb, it sounded hollow and unnatural. It needed to be filled but she didn't have the faintest idea of how to do that.

Hermione checked her watch again. Nine thirty pm. She sighed. How had she managed to unpack and organise her entire life in just over an hour? And how was she even supposed to function when she couldn't go one night without alone without having a nervous breakdown every fifteen minutes?

Suddenly she remembered the enchanted record player and box of records that she had somehow inherited off Remus Lupin after his death. She dragged her beaded bag across the table and with much heaving and grunting, extricated the device from the depths of the bag, followed by a wooden crate containing the records.

Since his will had been read, she had never tried to use it. The Burrow didn't feel like the sort of place one could play music and she wondered if perhaps that's what she should have done instead of letting the player gather dust in the corner of her room. Maybe it might have helped.

After removing the records, which slipped and slid all over her Persian rug, she transfigured the crate into a spindly legged table and rested the device on top. Casting her eyes back to the pile of records, she began to peruse the titles, almost instantly captivated by Remus' small but eccentric collection. There was Beethoven and Billy Holiday, Depeche Mode and Vivaldi, Tchaikovsky and Bob Marley. There was a record that boasted two hours of Mongolian throat singing, and another that consisted entirely of flamenco guitar favourites. She found that there was no record in the pile that did not enchant and excite her. She wanted to listen to them all at once and found herself excited by the peaceful atmospheres she could create with such music.

As she reached the bottom of the pile, she found a record that she had heard a lot about but had no memory of actually hearing. Her heart gave an extra hard thud in her chest. She picked it up reverentially, slid the disk out of its slip, put it onto the record player and placed the needle on the outer ring.

_"I need an easy friend,_

_ I do, with an ear to lend,_

_ I do think you fit this shoe,_

_ I do, but do you have a clue?"_

The music filled her space exquisitely and she felt tears sting her eyes as suddenly, her flat seemed to glow with a new light. Where before everything had seemed grey and sort of distorted, she now noticed the guttering roseate glow of the lanterns playing off the blue tiles in her kitchen. She noticed the rug under her feet throwing its delicate patterns up to the ceiling, vibrant and captivating. Hermione began to sway with the music, still staring down at the empty cover in her hands. _Nirvana: Unplugged in New York._ Her dad had been there for that concert, he told her stories about it. It was strange that she couldn't remember hearing the record, but now that she put her mind to it, she realised he had played it a lot when she was very little. She remembered the lyrics vaguely and the songs felt familiar. The music was conjuring distorted images and memories in her mind.

With a jolt she realised she loved it, not just because her Dad had talked about it and played it when she was little but because the music spoke to her. She got it.

When he got back, she'd give him the record. He'd like that.

She stopped swaying.

_When he got back._

But he wasn't getting back. Not unless she went to get him. Not unless she undid the memory charm she'd placed on him a year a half ago. Did Wendel Wilkins even _like _Nirvana? He didn't sound like he did, he sounded like the kind of man who listened to BBC radio 4 and went golfing on the weekends. He sounded like the kind of man who covered up his tattooed arms and brushed them off as foolish decisions made in his youth. What if he'd had his tattoos removed? She'd always liked that her dad was a tattooed dentist. What if now he was just a dentist?

What if her mum had removed her tragus piercing and thrown out all her old books on women's lib? What if she'd stopped going to art galleries and started going to dental conventions? What if she didn't like mushrooms anymore? What if she stopped trying to force Hermione to eat them?

What if they weren't them anymore? What if Hermione had botched the memory charm and erased Nina and Barry Granger forever?

Hermione pulled the needle off the record with a violent scratch before she could really think about what she was doing. Her hands were shaking again. She scooped Crookshanks up in her arms and, leaving the records scattered across her living room floor, fled to her bedroom. She climbed, fully clothed, into her four poster bed and clutched Crookshanks to her stomach.

Hermione's new flat might look nice in the light of the candles, it might have a nice view and she might like the blue tiles in the kitchen; but it wasn't home. It didn't have a green walled kitchen with a light scorch mark on the ceiling from when she'd accidentally left olive oil in a hot pan. It wasn't filled with the scent of her mother's shampoo and perfume. There was no glimpse of her name written in rose vines over her father's back, no laughter over her mum's obsessive cleanliness when she insisted on ironing her pyjamas, no half finished game of trivial pursuit on the dining room table. No mum. No dad.

It was just her.

The panic she'd fought hard to keep on a short leash since she'd arrived in Diagon Alley that day was finally allowed free reign in her mind.

She was alone, and she was going to be alone for a long time. She had a whole year at Hogwarts in front of her and for those 365 nights, she would be entirely alone in this flat. Unaccompanied, unaided, isolated. If she died, no one would know. She could lie bleeding in her bathtub for days before someone found her. No one to talk to, no one to fight with, no one to pat her hair and tell her she was beautiful and kind and clever and she would be ok. At least at the Burrow she was part of a collective feeling of grief and misery. Now, she had to face her own grief and misery full on; naked, vulnerable, raw. There was only herself now.

And she didn't know what to do with that. She didn't where to put the hurt. She couldn't just sit it on her nice new bookshelf and leave it be. The records might dull the sound of it ringing in her ears but it was still there when the silence came back.

So she wept. With Crookshanks pressed into the curve of her stomach, the smell of rain on asphalt filling her flat, the moonlight shining through her window and onto her bed, she cried until she slept.

And silently, as the tears soaked the pillow under her head, when she was just a hairs breadth away from sleep, she resigned herself to doing exactly this for another 365 nights.

* * *

A/N This chapter was really personal for me. It came very much from the heart and I hope that comes to all of you, my lovely readers.

kmb3 - Hey, thanks for the love! Don't worry, I did intend originally to post weekly but that went out the window thanks to my own impatience. The chapters go up as soon as I'm happy with them now.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

BOTH HANDS

_"I am drawing the story of how hard we tried."_

Over the next three days Hermione tried her best to remain busy. She did not want to sink back in to the same hole she'd had to drag herself out of the morning after her first night. She occupied herself by stocking up her flat with all the essentials. She was pleased to see that her vault at Gringotts wasn't quite as empty as she'd originally thought which enabled her to splurge a little. Soon her cupboards were full of pots, pans and crockery, she had stocked up her bathroom and even added a throw rug to her couch.

It also made it possible for her to buy an owl. Now that she wasn't staying at the Burrow, she could no longer borrow Pigwidgeon when she needed to and she couldn't very well be running backwards and forwards from the wizarding post office all the time.

She'd emerged from Eyelops Owl Emporium after half an hour interrogating the clerk about the pros and cons of different breeds, carrying a grey owl with feathers that looked like the bark off a tree and was no taller than her forearm. She took him home and quickly decided that she rather liked the look of him perched in his overlarge cage in her living room. He had a soft, evil sounding kind of hoot which was far more comforting that Pigwidgeon's mad squeaks.

She stared at him through the bars of his cage. "So what should I call you?"

The owl hooted patronisingly. Hermione held it's gaze and gave him shrewd look. "I originally thought of Caspian, but I don't think it suits you. You're too much of a hard ass for that aren't you?" She paused to think and, after a moment, giggled. "What about Napoleon?"

The owl looked at her for the briefest of moments before turning it's little body away from her dismissively in a way that strongly reminded her of someone else.

"I know what to call _you_, little owl. I'll call you Sev."

She held out a treat for him and he turned back towards her to take it through the bars.

Having acquired Sev and left him sitting regally in his cage with a few owl treats, she had taken up her quill and devoted an hour to writing to all the people she had put off over the summer. She wrote Andromeda Tonks to ask after Teddy, and Bill Weasley to see how him and Fleur were going with Victoire. She wrote to Neville and Luna to see if they were repeating the year and even to Aberforth Dumbledore, thanking him for his help. They were all, again, letters of polite formality but Hermione felt a little better for reconnecting with people.

The last three nights had been hard, not as hard as the first but she still fell asleep crying. And she still woke up every morning afterwards feeling pathetic and useless. But Hermione was nothing if not tenacious and she committed herself to living a normal looking life regardless of what happened when she turned the lights out at night. She had left the Burrow to get out of her funk and, though she realise her problems were mobile, she didn't want to sink back into it again. And she certainly didn't intend to allow it to get worse.

She left her flat again the next day to finally go in search of food. Wandering down to the Leaky Cauldron every morning and night had proved too draining; both because of the attention she would get walking the streets and also because the food at the Leaky Cauldron tended to make one feel worse rather than better. Her first big shop left her pantry stuffed almost to capacity with every different type of chocolate she could lay her hands on, the most succulent and exotic fruit the markets in Diagon Alley offered and an array of other wizarding and muggle delicacies. She had never really had to shop for herself before and found herself alarmingly overwhelmed by the selection of food her local markets offered, and so she had compromised by buying _everything_. It didn't occur to her while she was shopping that perhaps one person didn't need quite so much but when she stood, hours later, in front of her overstuffed pantry, she realised she wasn't going to be able to eat all of it on her own. Even with the stasis charms she put on it to keep it fresh.

It was this, and the desire to spend one night without her head stuffed in her pillow, crying, that persuaded her to answer George's note.

_ Hey George,_

_Sorry it's taken so long for me to reply. It was just nice to be alone for a few days._

_I'd love to have dinner with you though. How's tonight? Around seven?_

_Hermione_

She stared down at her note for a moment before using her wand to replace _love _with _like_. She walked over to Sev's cage and tied the note to his leg.

"This is for George. He lives a few doors down in the shop with the ridiculous decor, ok?"

Sev hooted indifferently and took off through her open balcony door.

She looked at her watch and noticed with a start that she'd given herself only an hour to get ready to receive company. After a quick shower wherein she fought in vain to comb the tangles from her hair, she donned tights and a quidditch jersey and began tidying up her flat. The thought that perhaps she should wear something a little more attractive gave her pause for only the briefest of moments before she shrugged it off. This was George after all.

At ten past seven Hermione was startled by Sev landing on her shoulder, a note attached to his leg. It had a single line of writing.

_Hermione, how the hell do I get up to your flat?_

She rushed out onto her balcony to see George standing in the street, grinning up at her.

"Oh! Sorry! I'm sorry!" she cried, "I'll be down in a sec!"

She scooped her keys up off the coffee table and heaved open her door. She flew down the spiral staircase, through the cavernous storage space and into the darkened shop. She opened the front doors and George stepped in.

"Sorry George! I completely forgot about that!"

He grinned at her and threw an arm around her shoulders familiarly as she led him back through the shop.

"You're looking better already, Hermione."

Her stomach churned and a sweat broke out on the back of her neck for reasons that she couldn't at all identify. She giggled nervously. "Thanks. I _feel_ better."

She led him back up the spiral stairs. "I should set up some sort of apparating point out on the landing. I mean, that can't be that hard can it? I'm sure lots of other places do that, I've seen plenty of shops with flats above them around here. How would the people who live there get up to their houses without going through the shops all the time?" she rambled nervously as she heaved open her front door and led him into her flat.

George was nodding and looking around. "Yeah that's what we've got for the flat above the shop." he said absent-mindedly.

She noticed his use of _we _instead of _I_.

"Wow, Hermione, this place is so _you_." he smiled and she couldn't help smiling too.

"Thanks, George! I'm going to make some tea, so feel free to look around! The bedroom's just through there." she pointed down the little hallway and began to move into the kitchen as he nodded, still moving his head this way and that, taking in her space.

As she set about making the tea, Hermione's mind was abuzz. She was perplexed. For one, why was she suddenly nervous? She'd seen George four days ago and she'd felt fine around him then. Now, there was just something about him that felt really obvious but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

Secondly, George seemed happier, almost normal. What the hell had happened to the blank faced phantom from the Burrow? The one she couldn't get two words out of? George had practically beamed when she'd seem him down stairs. But she hadn't seen him smiled in over three months!

"Maybe he's on drugs." she said to herself with a wry grin. "Maybe you should ask him for some."

When she returned to the lounge room she found him thumbing through her record collection. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

"This is a really neat collection, Hermione. I didn't know you liked half this stuff."

She sat down on the couch. "I don't. Well, I mean, I don't know yet. I haven't listened to most of it. It was Remus'. He left it to me." George didn't respond. "You can put something on if you like."

He nodded and pulled a record out of the pile. He rubbed his sleeve over the disk before placing it on the player. Bob Marley began to filter out of the gramophone.

George turned to her and smiled. "I hope you don't mind this? I love Bob Marley."

Hermione shook her head as he sat down on the couch and picked up his tea, taking a sip.

"So why'd Remus leave you these?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I sort of thought if he was going to leave me anything it would be his defence books. But Harry got those."

"I guess he figured there's probably not much in them that you don't already know." he smirked cheekily.

She laughed. It was probably true.

"So you're going back to Hogwarts for this year?"

She nodded. "Yeah. But the start of term feast isn't for another three days. My patience is wearing thin." she looked anxious at the thought.

"Three days of holidays left? Only you, Hermione, would be able to see that as a bad thing!" George chuckled. "Where's your shiny prefect's badge anyway? Shouldn't it be displayed in a crystal cabinet?"

Hermione swatted his arm playfully. "No! I'm not a prefect anymore."

"Oh ok, so where's the safe you're keeping your Head Girl badge in? Is it behind the bookcase?"

Hermione giggled. "No, I'm not Head Girl either. I told McGonagall I didn't want any of it."

George assumed a mocking expression of abject horror and Hermione swatted him again. "Shut up! I just wanted to focus on my studies this year."

"Yeah like you've ever had a problem with that!" He grinned at her again and she felt a growing unease. Why was he so happy? The conversation was nice and it was refreshing to laugh with someone without feeling guilty but it was so drastically different from what he'd been like at the Burrow that she felt a little wary and nervous. She leant forward and placed a hand on his forearm.

"George, are you ok?"

He frowned, confused. "Yeah, why?"

Hermione clutched at her cup of tea despite the fact that it was burning her hands. "It's just... At the Burrow, you seemed so down. And now, you're fine. I don't get it. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're ok. Really glad. But I have to admit I'm a bit confused."

He shrugged. "Being there makes me depressed. Reminds me of stuff. When I'm not there, it's a bit easier. It's not easy. But it's _easier_."

She nodded. "I can understand. It's been easier for me since I left too. But I feel kind of bad about that."

"Don't feel bad. I wouldn't have wanted to stay either with everything that was going on. At least I could get away, go back to the shop. You were there twenty four seven. And what with the way Ron's been and everything, no wonder you wanted to get away."

She nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. So they had arrived at the subject of Ron.

George looked at her sideways. "What's going on with you two anyway?"

Hermione ran a hand through her hair anxiously. "I don't know."

"He's still ignoring you?" She nodded. "And you tried to talk to him before you left?" She nodded again. "And he didn't try to stop you leaving?" She shook her head. "Well, I say fuck him then."

Hermione's head snapped up to look at him, wide eyed.

"What? I know it hurts but you deserve better than that. No matter what he's going through, it's the same as the rest of us. Just because the war was fucked and now life is fucked, doesn't stop me being nice to people. Especially girls."

Hermione felt saddened by his cynical attitude. But in essence, he was right. So many things made her sad or anxious now. Why add Ron and his behaviour into that mix? She had enough to worry about. Being perplexed about why he didn't seem to want her anymore wasn't helping her get over her pain and feeling rejected and abandoned was just adding to it. He would tell her why one day, if he wanted to. Until then, what was the point of torturing herself over it?

She felt a little lighter.

"So George, what's your secret?" She asked with a smile.

He grinned wolfishly, "My secret? I've discovered women and drugs."

Hermione rolled her eyes, deciding she'd rather not get invested in whether he was joking or telling the truth. She suspected it may be a little of both. "Oh that sounds healthy."

He laughed, "Oh, it is. So what's yours?"

"My secret?"

"Yeah."

She frowned and thought for a moment. "I haven't got one yet."

"Well, that sounds healthy." he laughed.

Hermione grinned. "Oh, it's working out brilliantly. Speaking of healthy though, have you been around the Burrow at all the last couple of days?" she asked him.

"Yeah, I was there last night." His happiness disintegrated a little. But he didn't look sad, he looked worried.

Hermione frowned. "What? Has something happened?"

George looked unsure. "Well... I don't know. Sort of."

"George, what is it? Is Molly ok? And Ron?"

"Yeah, yeah, everyone's fine. It's Harry, I guess."

"What do you mean 'you guess'?"

George looked uncomfortable. "I don't want to worry you Hermione, but he's just gone a bit... odd."

Hermione chuckled bitterly. "What's new? When I left he hadn't come out of his room in three days. He's been 'odd' since the final battle."

George narrowed his eyes and stared fixedly at the cup of tea in his hands. "Hmm. I don't know if that's quite true though. If you think about it, he hasn't. He was pretty ok for a couple of weeks after the final battle. In fact, if you remember, he'd started to actually get better."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Yeah, you're right. He was talking about going in to do Auror training, wasn't he? And then suddenly he started getting those episodes and couldn't leave the house anymore. So what's happened now?"

"He's started leaving the house."

"Oh ok." she paused, "But isn't that a good thing?"

"Well maybe... But he's leaving in the middle of the night. And he won't tell anyone where he's going. Not even Ginny."

"Ah." Hermione felt the familiar concern for Harry bubble up into her throat. She'd once accused him of 'playing the hero' and she assumed that's what he was doing now. It seemed ridiculously like Harry to deal with his pain by getting himself embroiled in some dangerous quest for justice. Yes, that must be it.

'Well," she said with a sigh, "There's not much _I_ can do about it. They made it pretty clear they don't want me around."

George grimaced.

Hermione got to her feet, muttered something making a start on dinner, and disappeared into the kitchen.

A mantra was looping itself in her head.

_He's fine. He's fine. He's fine._

He had to be. She couldn't _do _anything!

She slammed a cupboard door closed with unnecessary force.

For all she knew he could be saving small children from the clutches of escaped death eaters, but he could also be suicidal or hurting himself or indulging in a drug habit every night. Next time she saw him, she swore to herself she would throttle him. How _dare _he put this on her! How dare he cause the people around him more pain and worry than they were already feeling. He knew what people would do. It was so typically Harry to assume he was the only one hurting.

He had _always_ been like that.

In her first year she and Ron had helped Harry through the protections surrounding the philosophers stone. What most people didn't know was that Hermione had had to sit alone in a chamber full of 12 foot high chest pieces, with no way out, for hours before Dumbledore showed up. Ron was unconscious and so cold Hermione thought he was dead. So she'd been locked in a chamber for hours with what she thought was the dead body of her friend.

To say she was traumatised after that would have been an understatement.

In her second year it had not been Harry who was likely to be murdered, but her. Some unknown entity was moving through the school attempting to off muggleborns.

To say she wasn't terrified for an _entire_ year until an attempt was made on her own life would have been untrue.

In her fifth year she had thought Harry too overwhelmed with his own emotions to be able to handle what she was going through. What she didn't tell him was that she had devoted a considerable amount of time and energy into trying to get the Order to do something about her parents. Voldemort had risen again, he would know Hermione was not only one of Harry Potter's best friends, but also a muggleborn. It was only a matter of time, right? But the order had done nothing.

She had fought beside Harry in the Department of Mysteries, she had attempted to protect the school from death eaters the night Dumbledore had died, she had camped with him for a year trying to find Horcruxes, stuck by him when Ron left, saved his life from Nagini in Godrics Hollow, been tortured for forty excruciating minutes by Bellatrix Lestrang, and had ridden on the back of a dragon out of Gringotts with him.

She had stood next to him in the final battle.

For him, she had sent her parents away. She had _purposely _damaged their minds in order to stop them being added to the list of people who died for Harry Potter.

She could see Thestrals now.

Resentment was boiling through Hermione's body. Harry had slowly broken down after the final battle and all Hermione could feel was guilt and concern. After all she'd been through with him, for him, she could think only of how to help him. But when _she _finally did something for _her_, when she finally cracked a little, she got yelled at and pushed away.

Well, he was on his own. Whether he was injecting heroin into his eyeballs or trying to save the world by killing one evil death eater at a time; he could do it without her. She'd had enough of running around after a man child who couldn't keep his temper in check and treated his friends like inconvenient lackeys.

She was furiously chopping onions when George appeared in the kitchen behind her and deposited their tea mugs into the sink.

"Hermione?"

She didn't trust herself to speak. Her hands shook with anger.

Fuck panicking every day as a result of what she'd been through for her best friend. Fuck crying over Ron and hoping, pathetically, that he'd come around eventually when he hadn't noticed her swift decline anymore than what Harry did. Fuck feeling guilty about what she said that day in the kitchen. _Fuck_ them. Fucking fuck _fuck _FUCK Harry!

George leant past her and carefully took the knife out of her quivering hand. She let him.

"Hermione, don't be like them. Don't let the pain damage you like that." He began wiping the sticky juice from the onions off her hands with a wet cloth he'd retrieved from the sink. "You need to talk. That's it. That's the secret. Otherwise you'll end up the same way. Mad like mum, bitter like Ginny and cold like Ron. Don't be like that."

"I don't know what to say." she said through gritted teeth.

"You probably don't right now, but that's ok. Just when you do, don't hold it back. Alright?"

Hermione ducked her head and took a breath to calm herself. "Alright." She looked back up at him. "Thanks George."

"No problem." He held his arms out, inviting her in for a hug.

She moved in and pressed her cheek against his chest as he embraced her. Her stomach inexplicably lurched again.

She inhaled and almost choked.

_His smell._

She stepped away from him quickly. "I'd better start cooking or we'll never eat."

He gave her a confused look.

She handed him a head of garlic and a bunch of coriander leaves before he could speak. "Make yourself useful then." she said with a grin, trying not to look at him.

He laughed and bent over her kitchen bench to dice the garlic.

With his back turned to her, she could see his shoulder blades shifting through his shirt every time he brought the knife down. He had always been George Weasley to her, Ron's older brother, prankster extraordinaire. Suddenly, now, he was just a man. Just George.

She felt slightly giddy as what seemed like an entire army of emotions tried to clamour for prime position in her mind. Was she feeling angry, still, about Harry? Was she scared of what might happen to him? Or, because it was rare these days that she had a moment when she didn't feel edgy, was it panic? Had George's smell triggered her into more heartache over Ron?

Or was it morbid, unquenchable, profane curiosity?

Yes. That was it.

Hermione was so curious, her whole body was itching.

Oh, how deliciously fucked up. She couldn't have Ron anymore, so why not the next best thing? Or maybe George would be _better _than Ron. It was like an upgrade.

And as an added bonus, how was she suppose to cry herself to sleep every night if she was sharing her bed with someone else?

"Hermione?"

"Mmm?"

"You're staring at me." said George with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes." she said vaguely, "I am aren't I?"

He smiled slowly. "Are you going to tell me why?"

She narrowed her eyes in thought. "I'm just curious."

He put the knife down and leant against the bench. "About what?" His voice was low.

Her head tilted to the side. "You said earlier you had discovered women. I'd like to know how you went about doing that."

* * *

looking-glass - I have only one thing to say to you. I. Love. Your. Reviews. 3


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

STUDYING STONES

_"I am out here studying stones, trying to learn to be less alive. Using all of my will to keep very still, still even on the inside."_

George gave her a calculating look and pushed himself off the bench to walk towards her. "What exactly would you like to know?"

"It's not so much what I'd like to know, but what I'd like to _feel_." Hermione didn't know if she was very good at the flirting thing. She'd never had much practice.

His hands landed on her hips, his breath on her face. The scent was so familiar.

Minutes later she was thrusting on his fingers, head thrown back on her couch, his moans in her ears. So this is what tunnel vision felt like? She was vaguely aware of a whole mass of contradictory feelings clawing at the edge of her mind, but it was surprisingly easy to blank them out. So there was no guilt, no thought of how she'd gotten there, only how much _better _he was. He needed no direction or input; he knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how to get her off.

And off is where he got her.

Unfortunately for him, the moment her body uncurled and her orgasm had finished throbbing in her ears, the formerly muffled alarm bells began ringing loud and clear inside her head. What had she done?

"Oh fuck. Oh god." His fingers were still tracing lazy circles inside her when her hands flew up to her face. "Oh this is so wrong."

He was grinning smugly. "I know."

"No, George, not in a good way." She moved away from him, his fingers slid out of her. She pulled up her underwear.

"What are you doing?"

"You have to go." She retrieved her tights from the kitchen floor and put them on too. He looked confused. "I'm sorry, I know this is awful but I can't do this with you."

George sighed. "Are you ok?"

Hermione rounded on him, a manic look in her eyes. "What?! No, I'm not ok!" she laughed hysterically, "I have never been further from ok! I have just allowed my ex-boyfriend's brother to... to..."

"Digitally pleasure you?" George deadpanned.

"Yes! _Four fucking days _after we broke up!"

"I think you've probably been 'broken up' for a lot longer than that, Hermione. He was your boyfriend in name only."

She began to sob. He got up and walked over, his arms held out to comfort her. She flinched away from him. "No, no don't. Please. Just... Just go. I'll be ok. I'll write you in a couple of days and we can talk about this. Ok? Please?"

For a moment she thought he'd refuse but instead he laid a hand on her arm and said seriously, "If you don't write in a week, I'm coming to break down your door."

She gave a watery laugh as he slung his cloak over his arm and left.

* * *

The following three days were some the worst she'd had since the war.

That night found her in the shower, scrubbing at her skin, trying to wash off the scent that had long since dissipated. But she could still smell it on her. She'd cast cleansing charms on her couch and her throw rug and even on the carpet but it was still there. It was _everywhere_.

There was a mousy little voice in her head telling her that perhaps she was imagining it but she was too far gone to listen.

How could she have been so stupid? She couldn't for one second understand what had possessed her to do such a thing. Hermione was not an impulsive person; she wasn't one to give in easily to temptation like that. Where had her logic gone? Wasn't it supposed to step in and give her a full list, complete with bibliography, of all the reasons why something was_ not _ok?

Ah. But her logic _had _been there.

She remembered.

She'd been questioning herself about her emotions. She was wondering if she was angry at Harry or scared for him, if she was panicking, if she was still hurting over Ron, or if she was just curious about George. And her logic had calmly stepped in and told her it was the latter.

How spectacularly, devastatingly, shamefully fucking stupid. _Of course_ she was angry with Harry and scared for him, he was her best friend. _Of course_ she was panicking; there was never a time when she wasn't anymore. And _of course_ she was feeling sad about Ron, he was her first love, and he'd left her. She was heartbroken.

So, rather than feel all those yucky, awful things, she had chosen instead, to feel curious about George. It wasn't a real feeling, it was a distraction. And she had known, somewhere in her gut, how wrong it was. But she'd still done it.

She stood naked in front of her bathroom mirror, her skin red raw and her eyes swollen.

"You are _bad_ Hermione." she told herself. And she was. She wasn't pure or kind hearted. She was an awful friend, an awful human being. No matter what Ron did to her, what she had just done would break his heart.

George was not to blame. She'd initiated it, and it was she who deserved the punishment.

Hermione's self esteem wasn't low, it was gone. She _loathed_ herself. She would have been kinder to death eaters in Azkaban than she was being to herself right then. The weight of it was crushing her. And she had no idea how she was going to begin dragging herself out from underneath it.

Two days later, on the night before the start of term feast, she was no closer to calm. She'd drawn the curtains and lay on her couch since the night George had come for dinner, listening to the same record, over and over again.

_"Slight of hand and twist of fate,_

_On a bed of nails she makes me wait..."_

It was a new low. And all the damage was done by her. There was no one else around to blame anymore. She should have stayed at the Burrow. But if she was capable of what she'd done, what else could she do? She was better off away from people, locked in her flat. The people she loved were safe then.

Harry would never have done it, and Ginny would have died before she cheated on him. Ginny waited for him for seven years. She sat by his bed and held his hand while he cried. Their love was pure.

Remus and Tonks bore a child together; they died in battle together, their arms reaching for each other. Their love was pure.

Arthur made Molly sandwiches every night, even though he'd been working all day, even though she wouldn't thank him. Their love was pure.

Lily and James Potter died protecting their son. Their love was pure.

And Ron held her hand through it all. His touch wasn't primal or rough, it was sacrosanct. He would never have done it. Ron's love for her was pure.

She deserved her pain. She deserved to be screamed at, abused, and hated. She deserved _punishment._

Hermione noticed through the haze of her tears, that she was holding her wand. She lifted her arm and drew it along the back of the opposite hand. "_Diffindo._"

The skin split along the line she had drawn. Blood pooled in the wound and began to seep out. In the back of her mind, she vaguely registered that it wasn't a deep enough cut to do any real damage before dropping her hand back onto her stomach indifferently.

She cried, briefly, from the pain of it while a little voice in her ear said, "_Not enough._"

No, it wasn't. She'd endured cuts and bruises before, she was used to it. She needed to feel the kind of pain Ron would feel if she told him what she'd done. That's what she deserved. And there was only one spell she knew of that could do that. She picked up her wand again and pressed its tip to her temple.

"_Crucio._"

She waited. Nothing happened. This seemed worse than the alternative.

She tried again, this time trying to push all of her anger and pain into the word.

"_Crucio!_"

Still, nothing happened. She curled into herself, cradling her bleeding hand and sobbed. She was already forming plans in her head of how she could research the spell when she went back to Hogwarts and perhaps adapt it a little so she could use it on herself. She was determined to take the punishment.

The rest of the night, until the wee hours of the morning, she lay on her couch, getting up only to begin the record again.

* * *

Hermione awoke to Crookshanks nudging her hand with his head, as it hung over the edge of the couch. When she glanced down, she realised it was still caked with blood. She grimaced. The cut was past magical healing now. She'd have a scar.

_Another one._

She rolled over to face the back of the couch, moaning. Her head pounded and her eyes stung from crying.

The daylight penetrating the room through the gaps in her curtains, though dim, was hostile and very much unwelcome. She wanted to go back to sleep. The last time she'd glanced at her watch before she finally passed out the night before, it had read _5am. _It was still too early to be awake.

Her cat meowed loudly.

"Shut up, Crookshanks!" she snapped.

He meowed again and jumped up on the couch with her, kneading at her stomach affectionately.

"Fine." She sat up, knocking him off as she did. "I'm up now. Happy?"

He glared at her and stalked away. Hermione noticed the quidditch jersey she was wearing was stuck to the skin of her stomach. She looked down. More blood.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. This was too much. She had to _do_ something. Three days lying on a couch crying was beginning to feel a little self indulgent.

Hermione glanced at her watch. 5:15pm. She gasped. She'd assumed the dim light had meant early morning but instead, it had meant early evening.

And she had to be at Hogwarts for the start of term feast in less than an hour.

Hermione leapt to her feet and regretted it immediately, as spots appeared in her vision. She stumbled and swayed for a moment before regaining her balance.

She ran through her bedroom and into the bathroom, tearing off her clothes as she went. When she turned on the tap, steam billowed out of the cubicle. Just as it began to fog up the mirror, she caught sight of her reflection. Her mouth dropped open in shock. She hurriedly wiped the condensation from the mirror and stared at herself. Not only did she look like she'd recently died but there was an evil looking black bruise curling around her eye from her temple. She poked it, ready to flinch in pain. It didn't hurt at all. Perhaps she had poked herself too hard with her wand when she tried to...

As her hand dropped, she caught another glimpse of her watch. 5:21.

"Shit!"

She threw herself into the shower for a quick scrub, purging her body of the dried blood. She downed a Pepper Up Potion from her bathroom cabinet and dressed in her Hogwarts robes, strapping her wand holster onto her left arm and wincing slightly as it dragged over the cut on her hand. She devoted a few almost wasted minutes to trying to cover the bruise on her face with the muggle foundation she kept for special occasions. It dulled it marginally but thankfully masked the sickly pallor of her face and dark bags under her eyes. She threw a few things into her beaded bag, relieved beyond belief that she didn't have to pack her trunk this year otherwise she would have been truly late.

It was 5:45 when she hurtled out of Flourish and Blotts and ran up the road to the Leaky Cauldron, where she could apparate to Hogsmeade station. She pulled her hair, which had most conveniently gone mad, up into a loose bun as she ran, careful to let a portion of her fringe fall across her bruised temple. Once she reached the court yard behind the pub, she turned on the spot into darkness.

Hermione apparated directly into a crowd of fifth year Hufflepuffs who understandably shrieked at her sudden appearance. The unexpected darkness at Hogwarts compared to the daylight still hanging over Diagon Alley threw her for a moment as she got her bearings. The platform was crowded with students; the Hogwarts express having just arrived. She was grateful for the thestral drawn carriages that negated the need for her to sprint up to the castle.

"Firs' years over 'ere!" Hermione gave an excited squeak and rounded on the familiar voice. Rubeus Hagrid towered over the crowd and Hermione pushed her way through the throng to get to him.

"Hagrid! HAGRID!"

He turned at the sound of her voice and beamed. "Hermione! How are yeh?"

"I'm good! Really good!" She realised as she said it that she really meant it, seeing Hagrid had warmed her heart and she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She was back on home turf.

The crowd began to buffet her away from him and she called out over her shoulder, with an apologetic shrug, "I'll come for tea in a few days ok?"

He nodded and waved, grinning from ear to ear.

Hermione leapt for the first available carriage only to find it occupied by a group of four Gryffindor third years.

She leant through the door. "Do you mind if I...?"

One girl, who Hermione had seen around but forgotten the name of, squealed and almost fell off her seat at the sight of her. The rest nodded enthusiastically and made room for her.

Hermione stepped into the carriage and sat down. She began to regret her decision not to wait for a carriage she could take on her own as the four 13 year olds stared at her with wide eyed awe.

A boy with dark hair and an olive complexion leant forward and said in wonder, "Are you Hermione Granger?" The girl next to him elbowed him in the ribs and gave him a reprimanding look. Hermione was reminded so strongly of herself that she grinned and nodded.

"And what's your name?" she said to the boy.

He blushed and mumbled, "Noah Williams."

Hermione smiled. "It's nice to meet you Noah." She looked around at the rest of them, waiting for them to introduce themselves too.

The girl next to Noah held out her hand immediately. "My name's Ebony. Ebony Laurence."

Hermione took the young girl's proffered hand. "This is Felix Leeton," the boy next to Hermione smiled nervously, "And Gypsy Worthington." the girl who had almost fallen off her seat giggled.

"It's lovely to meet you all." Hermione sat back as the carriage was filled with an awkward silence.

Noah glanced shiftily at Ebony before saying, in an undertone, "Is it true you broke into Gringotts and stole a dragon?"

Hermione laughed. "We didn't intend to but yes. It's true."

Noah whistled appreciatively and Felix said, "Whoa!" Even Ebony seemed impressed.

"Didn't the police try and stop you?" she asked, in an awed voice.

The two boys laughed. "She's muggleborn." said Noah.

Ebony's mouth opened to retort angrily but Hermione cut across her. "So am I." she smiled.

Ebony looked smug.

Gypsy pointed at Hermione's left hand with a gasp. "What happened to your hand?!"

Hermione hastily shook her sleeve over the cut and shrugged. "Got into a fight with a bowtruckle."

"Oh! I know what they are! Professor Hagrid said we're doing them this year in Care of Magical Creatures!" Ebony was practically bouncing in her seat.

The carriage stopped at the front steps of Hogwarts and Hermione got out. She walked through the entrance hall and into the feast as Noah, Ebony, Felix and Gypsy continued to pepper her with questions.

"Is it true you fought a werewolf?"

"Did you really set a herd of centaurs on the Minister of Magic?"

"How many mountain trolls _did _you take on in your first year?"

"Are you really dating Harry Potter?"

Hermione laughed. Is this what people thought of the Golden Trio? She was amazed how twisted a story could get when it was passed from person to person. She resolved to set this little group straight at some point and perhaps they could pass it on to their peers. Hermione didn't particularly fancy the idea that a rumour was floating around that she'd attempted to assassinate the Minister of Magic.

"Hermione!"

Someone was waving excitedly at her from near the staff table. She craned her neck to see Neville Longbottom standing next to the Gryffindor table beaming at her and she waved back, grinning.

She turned back to the gaggle of third years. "I'm going to sit with my friends now, but I'll catch you guys later ok? Oh and if you ever need help with your homework, you can always find me in the library!"

"Oh cool!"

"See you Hermione!"

"Yeah, bye Hermione!"

Hermione watched as they took seats at the Gryffindor table, chattering excitedly. She made her way down the aisle toward Neville who stood up as she approached and hugged her.

"Hey Neville!"

"Hey Hermione! Oh..." He held her at arm's length and studied her face. "Are you ok? You look kind of sick."

Hermione was reminded, for the first time since she'd arrived, of what she'd spent the last three days doing. Of course she looked sick.

She laughed and waved him off. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired." He didn't look convinced and she shook her sleeve over her hand again as she took a seat at the Gryffindor table. Hermione looked up and noticed for the first time, who was sitting across from her.

"Hi Ginny." she said warily.

Ginny seemed half relieved, half defensive. "Hey."

Hermione studied her for a moment. She looked as bad as Hermione felt.

"It's ok Gin. We'll talk later." said Hermione quietly, with a kind smile.

Ginny seemed to let out a relieved breath and nodded gratefully.

Hermione finally took the opportunity to look around. The great hall was as spectacular as ever. The damage from the final battle had been repaired and it had been restored to all its festive glory. A thousand candles hung suspended in the air above their heads and beyond, the enchanted ceiling reflected the clear, starry sky. She felt herself sag contentedly into her seat. It was good to be home.

She cast her eyes up to the staff table and noted the familiar faces. Hagrid sat talking merrily with Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick next to her. Professor McGonagall sat in Dumbledore's old chair, deep in conversation with Professor Sinistra. Hermione noted with a scowl that Professor Trelawney was sadly not absent and was perched on her chair at the far end of the table doing her best to look mystical.

Hermione saw Professor Slughorn waving at her enthusiastically and as she waved back, she noticed an unfamiliar woman next to him, conversing with Professor Vector, her old Arithmancy teacher.

The woman wore deep purple robes embroidered with various symbols and patterns. She seemed to be in her early forties and had long, jet black wavy hair that stuck out in odd peaks and angles. There was something tribal about her, she seemed solemn and wise, though Hermione had never spoken to her.

"That must be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." said Neville beside her. Hermione noted that many of her peers were studying the woman as well.

Before Hermione could comment, Professor McGonagall rose to her feet and the buzzing hall fell silent as the students gave her their attention.

"Welcome students, new and old. I cannot say how happy I am to be standing here in front of you all today. In the last two decades, our world has learnt many things. First and foremost that magic and power can be wielded by both the good and the bad, the great and the weak, the pureblood, the half blood and the muggleborn. No matter your house, or your blood status, or your level of wealth, you are just as capable as the person sitting next to you of committing atrocities such as the world has never seen. It's come to _you_ to choose which side you fall on. Not your blood, not your house." She regarded the students solemnly.

"This year I will be attempting to disintegrate the house prejudices that you have all gotten accustomed to. I see no reason why a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could not be firm friends. In today's new world, old ideas must be put to rest. In order to move forward, we must let go of the prejudices we have held for centuries."

A stirring murmur swept through the students.

"We, in this great hall, can be part of so much greatness to come and it is within these walls, where many fought and died, that we must restore what some chose to destroy... to protect our future, to protect what we value, in the true vision of Albus Dumbledore."

"Wow," Hermione whispered to Neville.

"She's mental if she thinks Slytherins and Gryffindors will ever get along," Neville whispered back. Hermione gave him her usual disapproving stare.

McGonagall continued, "This year at Hogwarts will be different. We will work together to break down the barriers set before us. And those who oppose this will _feel _my disapproval." She regarded the occupants of the hall balefully as if daring someone to contradict her.

There wasn't a cheer, a whistle or even an applause – but a collective positive energy seemed to settle over the students. Hermione could feel it. For a brief moment, she had forgotten about her own problems, and began to remember the great things her, Harry and Ron had achieved in the last 7 years to bring about a change in the world they knew. She felt proud.

"Now, we have a special treat for you," Professor McGonagall said to break the silence she created. "A guest speaker. He is somebody who, I believe, will inspire every student here today, to strive for the best and perhaps even ease the concerns of the wonderful first years who are waiting ever so patiently to be sorted," One over-confident first year began to clap, but was only met with indulgent laughter from the rest of the hall.

"May I introduce to a very talented young wizard," McGonagall gestured towards the back of the hall to someone Hermione could not see even when she craned her head. "Draco Malfoy."

"HA!" Hermione let out a loud, involuntary laugh. Heads turned in her direction. Surely, McGonagall was joking!

Her eyes widened as Draco Malfoy himself stepped up on to the raised dais the staff table sat on, where Professor McGonagall greeted him by shaking his hand. He smiled nervously, thanked her and stepped up to the lectern, ready to speak.

* * *

looking-glass - Oh you. I love your reviews so much. All I can say, is ditto. Thank goodness for reviewers like YOU! Get a ff account so I can message you! (Oh and 'leant' is alright in Britain or Australia. Only wrong in America. But thanks for pointing it out all the same and let me know if you see anything else like that :D)

Jerry - Thanks for the love! I hope you liked this chapter :D


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

YOU HAD TIME

_"How can I go home, with nothing to say?"_

Hermione could see Malfoy's nervousness easily from where she sat. He was breathing shallowly and his hands clutched the sides of the lectern, his knuckles were white.

That did nothing to assuage the apoplectic rage burning through her blood though. How _could _he? How could he stand up there, in front of students whose families, friends and peers had been murdered and tortured by the man he had pledged a binding oath to follow? It was nothing short of insulting, insensitive and cruel.

She noticed McGonagall smiling at him encouragingly. What had he said to the Headmistress that had changed her attitude so? What lies had he told to get into her good books? Hermione had never expected her to be so gullible.

But Hermione was smarter than that. There was nothing, _nothing_, that he could say tonight that could change her mind about him. She knew he was only doing this to get some of the old Malfoy glory back and restore his image. And it appeared that he was willing to do just about anything to do just that. He was so transparent. So what that his parents were in Azkaban? He probably didn't give a rat's arse. Hermione could only hope that her fellow students weren't as naive as Professor McGonagall seemed to be.

Malfoy cleared his throat and Hermione looked around at her friends. Ginny's eyes were narrowed suspiciously and Neville looked angry. The faces of the rest of the halls occupants were a split between several expressions. Some looked politely interested, others vaguely indifferent; but most, namely Gryffindors, looked as livid as Neville and Ginny.

Hermione turned to look back at Malfoy as he began to speak.

"My name is Draco Malfoy. I am a Slytherin and a former death eater."

Many students in the hall gasped and Hermione almost choked on her pumpkin juice. Had he really just done that?

"Up until the end of last year, I shared my living space, my home, with the Dark Lord and my fellow death eaters. During that time, I saw my own parents commit murder as if it were nothing more than sport. I was subjected to the _cruciatus _curse many times and forced, sometimes under the _imperius_ curse, sometimes not, to torture other death eaters and victims of the Dark Lord's displeasure. I am an adult now and I was an adult then. I take responsibility for my actions and acknowledge that, though I believed differently at the time, I _did_ have a choice. And I chose."

Malfoy paused for a moment as if to regain some lost composure.

"I think to assume that the war was begun by a madman and his followers is almost wholly incorrect. In my opinion, the war was begun, in part, by a corrupt Ministry that shuns the needy and desperate and offers no aid to those less fortunate than ourselves. Tom Riddle was one such person. But, though he lit the flame, he did not build the pyre. Those who built it should, I think, bear some of the weight of the atrocities committed in his name. The wizards and witches I speak of in this case are of course, the pureblood elitists. Without their ideals infecting our society like a virus, the Dark Lord would have had no fire to light.

"I hold this opinion not because I have been told to but because I have learnt. I grew up being fed pureblood ideals. I grasped them and held onto them, I _chose_ to believe them. I saw no reason why they should not be true and if I did, I chose to ignore it."

At this, he locked eyes with Hermione. There was no smirk in his face, only open honesty.

_Oh, you're good Malfoy, but you don't fool me._

"Some of the things you may know of me are true and some are not. I will not, however, deny that I believed in my right to fight for a pure world. But never, did I believe that rape, murder and torture would be my weapons when it came to fighting; I am no sadist. I came to my beliefs after what I considered calm and sober consideration that led me into thinking I was doing right by the wizarding world. I believed us to be oppressed.

"The Dark Lord's name was praised in my home, we toasted to his return every evening when we sat down to dinner. Consequentially, up until I met him, I believed him to be a visionary and a hero. I hoped, always, that the time would come when I would be able to serve my Lord and make my own small contribution to maintaining the purity of our race and when he rose, I pledged him my service. I did not know then, what his new world would look like, or how ugly it would be. By the time I realised this, it was not my fanaticism for his cause that made me willing to kill for him; it was the knowledge that if I did not, I would lose my life. I was not given a say, first by my parents and then by Lord Voldemort.

"The only person who ever offered me a chance was Albus Dumbledore."

He regarded the hall gravely. His voice became stronger.

"And now, I say this. To my peers, those of you who have been force fed those same prejudices by your parents and the Ministry: do not allow yourselves to be groomed as I was. The rest of the wizarding world was spared a true look into the world Tom Riddle would have created. But I lived it for two years. I can tell you now that it was not the wholesome society he led us to envision. As a man, you were expected to murder and torture at Riddle's bidding and if you did not, he killed you. As a woman you were sold to the highest bidder and married off to breed a new generation of death eaters and your daughters would be destined to the same fate. If you were not complacent, you were tortured and raped. I ask you, is this the world you would desire to live in?

"I am not here to convert you into sharing my opinions. If I were, I would be no better than Riddle. I am here to encourage you to do as I did not, to think critically, and to question what you have been taught because the system that forbids us from asking questions, not only robs us of our freedom, but also creates the perfect conditions for prejudice and bigotry to grow. A breeding ground for bloodshed and darkness.

"My promise to you tonight is that I will work to unite the four houses as much as my power allows. I will do my best to eradicate the prejudice I have spent the last seventeen years to trying to cultivate.

"Remember: a half blood, a pureblood and a muggleborn united to bring down someone who we long thought was the greatest wizard of all time. And they _succeeded._"

Malfoy nodded to himself and made to move away from the lectern. Suddenly he looked up at the hall again.

"Slytherins? Befriend a Gryffindor. They really aren't that bad. And Gryffindors? Let them. For the sake of our future. Don't stand by and allow our world to raise another Tom Riddle."

He stepped off the podium and made his way back to the Slytherin table. The hall hung in a deathly silence for a moment. There was no difference between any of the student's expressions now. Each and every single one registered total, unadulterated, shock.

Professor McGonagall got to her feet and began to clap. She was soon followed by the rest of the staff and most of the students in the great hall. They applauded in Malfoy's direction and the noise rose to a roar.

Hermione remained seated and did not clap as her peers did. She no longer felt angry. She felt sad. It was a very pretty speech, and she wanted to believe him, she really did. It felt like some of what he'd said had been plucked straight out of her mind and she even felt vaguely flattered that he had mentioned her and Harry and Ron. But she _knew_ Malfoy. This was the boy who had called her a 'filthy little mudblood' for years, who had watched his aunt torture her, witnessed Dumbledore's death and remained silent. Oh, he'd do as much as his power would allow, he'd do his _best_, but he hadn't done anything when it had really mattered had he? No, to her Malfoy was just as guilty as he'd always been, no matter how eloquently he could turn a phrase.

Neville leant forwards on the table as Professor McGonagall thanked Malfoy and announced the beginning of the sorting. He looked between Hermione and Ginny.

"So what do we think?" He whispered as the Sorting Hat sent 'Amis, Natalie' to Ravenclaw.

Ginny shrugged, "I don't know, I guess we'll just have to wait and see if he puts any of what he said into action." she said quietly.

Neville nodded, lifting his goblet to his mouth and turning to look at Hermione.

"Well it seems Draco really is his father's son. I mean, if it had been Lucius up there, would you have believed him? No. You would simply assume he was spinning the same crap as he always did. Putting on a pretty mask for the public. And Malfoy seems to have perfected the art." she said in an undertone.

Neville nodded solemnly. "I'm converted when it comes to the house unity stuff though. The war may not have gone the way it had if the Slytherins weren't all set against us."

Hermione sighed, "I guess that part made sense, even if the rest of it was offal."

"So you think we should start hanging out with Slytherins?" said Ginny, disbelievingly.

"I certainly think we should try." said Hermione with a shrug.

After the sorting was done, the food appeared on their plates and Hermione ate quickly and greedily, having not put anything in her stomach for three days. Neville and Ginny were chatting good-naturedly with Luna Lovegood who had come to eat with them at the Gryffindor table. Hermione retreated slightly. Her temple was beginning to ache and she finally remembered the bruise she had noticed before she left her flat. Logically, she knew it had not been caused by poking herself too hard with her wand. It was a result of the curse she had tried to use on herself. Yet another stupid move and she should have known better.

The only experience she'd had with curse marks was Harry's scar, and that was permanent as well as having a quite a few uncomfortable side effects. Was this something she'd have to live with for the rest of her life? Had she caused herself some deeper damage that hadn't been immediately obvious? Magic was unpredictable and volatile, there was no way she'd possibly be able to accurately judge what effect the curse could have had on her mind.

Bearing this in mind, Hermione looked up at the staff table and decided to do something that caused her so much anguish she almost sprinted from the hall in tears.

She decided to seek help.

She stood abruptly. Neville, Luna and Ginny looked at her questioningly.

"I'll be back in a moment." She stepped over the bench and began to walk up the aisle. Heads turned in her direction just as they had done in Diagon Alley and every instinct was telling her to turn tail and run. Her hands shook.

Professor McGonagall looked up and smiled warmly as she approached.

"Good evening Professor."

"Good evening Miss Granger, how can I help you?"

"I was just wondering if you might have some time to speak with me after the feast. In private. In your office." Hermione tried her best not to let the words catch in her throat.

"Yes, of course. Is everything alright Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall looked deeply concerned.

Hermione tried to smile reassuringly. "Might I wait for you there?"

McGonagall nodded, seeming to understand Hermione's silent plea to not make her do this in the middle of the great hall.

"The password is 'Dante'."

Hermione turned away. She marched back down the aisle, swiped her beaded bag off the table next to Neville, ignored her friend's curious looks and left the hall.

She beat the familiar path up to the Headmistress' office, grateful for the still silence of the stone corridors and the cool draught shifting through them that made the heat of her cheeks easier to bear. Hermione felt like she might just burst with all of the emotion she was suppressing. She just needed to get to McGonagall's office.

She rounded a corner and saw the great stone gargoyle that was the entrance to the Headmistress' office at the other end. She broke into a run.

"Dante!" she choked out and the gargoyle stepped out of the way, allowing her to climb onto the ascending spiral staircase behind it.

She held her breath, trying to hold in the sensations that were threatening to overflow inside her and spill out all over the stairs. They moved upwards, taking her to the great wooden door at the top. She burst through it, slammed it closed behind her, and sat heavily in one of the comfortable armchairs that sat by the fire.

The damn inside her felt like it was getting weaker and Hermione tried to distract herself by looking around the office. There were more books, less strange looking instruments and many bizarre sculptures decorating the shelves that lined the walls. The office was softer in colour too; its main theme was a regal looking purple that was comforting and intimate.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione shrieked and whirled around to face the wall above the office door. Albus Dumbledore sat in his frame, regarding her with unmitigated pride, his eyes twinkling.

"How lovely it is to see you, I-"

He was cut off as she abruptly collapsed on the floor, cross legged, and wailed like a child. For him to speak to her, for him to look at her like that, like she was had just saved the world, like she was still Harry's best friend and Ron's girlfriend, like everything was still perfect... It was too much. Her head fell into her hands as she howled, trying to take shallow, halting breaths. Her face and body burned with the tension in her muscles. This wasn't weeping anymore, soft crying like she'd been doing. This was hysterical yowling like a wounded animal.

"Miss Granger? What is wrong?" Dumbledore said with kind concern.

"Why do I have to be like th-this?" she hiccupped. "I h-hate it! I just want to be normal again! Why does it ha-have to be so yucky all the time? Every fucking d-day! I c-can't go five minutes without crying! I do t-try to be better, I try to be s-strong and it just falls apart ag-gain!" She wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve and looked up at Dumbledore who, surprisingly, looked quite panicked. "I m-miss my mum and d-dad."

"Miss Granger, I am going to go and fetch Professor McGonagall. I will be back momentarily."

Hermione's head snapped up to tell him not to bother but he was already gone.

Hermione didn't want McGonagall. She didn't want to see her Headmistress' concern. She didn't want the attention. She should have been able to manage it herself. Everyone else was handling it all so well, why was she the weak one? Everyone had experienced the war, everyone had lost loved ones, so what gave her the right to cry?

She leapt up, deciding that she couldn't do it that night. She'd just go home, have a cup of tea and go to bed. She needn't worry anyone.

But the door would not open.

Hermione heaved and pulled at it. She even pointed her wand at the doorknob and tried a whispered "_alohamora_" to no effect. Eventually, she resigned herself to waiting for her Headmistress and collapsed back into the comfortable armchair by the fire still shaking and hiccupping.

"The Headmistress will be on her way soon, Miss Granger, she is just seeing to the end of the feast." said Dumbledore's voice from behind her.

"H-how do you do that?" she asked, staring into the fire.

"Do what, Miss Granger?"

"Stay s-so calm."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "Years of practice."

"I can i-imagine." said Hermione quietly.

After ten minutes, she finally began hiccupping herself to silence, comforted by the warmth of the fire. She drew her legs up to her chest, hugged her knees, closed her eyes and fell asleep.

What felt like seconds later but was actually almost a full hour, Hermione felt McGonagall's hand on her arm, shaking her lightly.

"Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open. "Did I fall asleep?"

McGonagall nodded. "Would you like some tea?" She went to busy herself at a tea tray by her desk without waiting for Hermione's response.

After handing Hermione a cup, she sat in an armchair opposite her. "So how have you been?"

Hermione sipped her tea. "Fine."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows cynically. "You don't need to pretend Hermione, I'm much older and much wiser than you. I can see a church by daylight."

"It's been a little hard adjusting but... I just need to get out of this funk. It'll get better eventually. Really, I'm ok, Professor."

McGonagall sighed resignedly and Hermione was grateful to see the Headmistress had given up, for now. "So how may I help you tonight?

Hermione put her tea on a small table beside her chair. "Well, I wanted to speak to you because... I have an injury that is concerning me."

The Headmistress frowned. "Wouldn't it be best if you spoke to Madam Pomfrey?"

"No, I don't think so. See, it's from... A curse." Hermione knew Professor McGonagall wouldn't appreciate her being evasive but she just couldn't say what she'd done out loud.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "What kind of curse?"

"I'd... I'd rather not say. It's just... It's left this." Hermione swept her fringe up off her forehead to uncover the bruise. McGonagall stood up and walked over to her. She leaned down, grasping Hermione's chin and turning her head into the light of the fire.

"Hmm. I don't recognise this. Kreacher!"

Hermione was surprised to see Harry's house elf appear in front of them.

"Yes Mistress?" he squeaked.

"Please fetch Professor Vulpes. Tell her it's urgent."

The wizened house elf bowed and disappeared with a pop.

Hermione sat quietly as Professor McGonagall lit the lanterns on the walls and fetched a tartan tin of biscuits.

"Biscuit, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded, aware that her Headmistress was trying very hard to contain her frustration that Hermione had not opened up to her or revealed what had left the mark on her temple.

"Chocolate or ginger?"

"Ginger please." Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Professor McGonagall presented her with a biscuit on a plate. She nibbled the edge of it nervously.

Just as McGonagall began to sit down again with her own plate, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" McGonagall called out. The door opened, revealing the dark haired woman who had been speaking to Professor Vector at the feast.

"You wanted to see me Minerva?" The woman had a strong eastern European accent with rolling 'r' sounds and a soft musical lilt to it.

"Yes. Professor Vulpes, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, Professor Vulpes is your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

The woman's eyes widened slightly as Hermione stood to shake the woman's hand.

"You will call me Teodora. I will not answer to Professor." McGonagall looked minutely annoyed but Hermione nodded.

"It's nice to meet you Teodora."

"Miss Granger, it seems, has run into a curse." said McGonagall.

"Oh?" Teodora looked between Hermione and McGonagall politely. "Should she not be in your hospital wing?"

"It seems not. Hermione, come and sit down so the professor can inspect your injury." Professor McGonagall gestured for Hermione to resume her seat.

Hermione sat, pulling her hair off her face again. Teodora leaned over her, taking her chin in her hand as McGonagall had done, and moving her face into the light of the fire. She studied the bruise for only a moment before turning Hermione's face back to look at hers. The older woman held her gaze for a moment and Hermione was sure that she knew what had caused the mark.

Teodora turned to McGonagall. "My people have a potion for this. The _Rusine. _I will brew it tonight and," she looked at Hermione, "you must come to me every night for two weeks to take it."

"What caused it?" asked McGonagall.

"I am not sure yet. But this potion will help with the pain while I attempt to determine the cause. You are in pain, correct?"

Hermione nodded, even if it was not entirely true.

"Shouldn't Professor Slughorn brew it?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"He will not know how." Teodora replied.

Hermione's heart thudded against her diaphragm. "What about the bruise?"

"The mark will fade over time if the potion is taken."

Teodora turned to the Headmistress again. "I must insist that Hermione come with me. The potion will take four hours to brew. She must take some tonight."

"Yes. Yes of course." said McGonagall. "Hermione, I will see you in transfiguration tomorrow."

Hermione nodded and smiled as she stood and followed Teodora out of McGonagall's office. She could hear Dumbledore speaking quietly as the door closed behind her.

For a time, her and Teodora walked silently through the dark corridors before the older woman spoke.

"I will not ask you to tell me why you wanted to torture yourself. But I think you must speak to someone or this pain will get worse."

Hermione gasped. "How did you know?"

"My people are not strangers to shame. Many witches and wizards have wanted to cause themselves harm before you. I know the signs."

"Why will it unhinge my mind?"

Teodora gave Hermione a sideways look that was more amusement than annoyance at Hermione's attempt to try and avoid talking.

"It is difficult to understand, I think. You are _nascut din incuiati_? Your parents are muggles?" Hermione nodded. "Well then you might see. Are you familiar with the muggle drug heroin?"

Hermione looked confused. "Yes, of course. But how are you?"

"I am _corcitura_. Half blood. My _tata_ took that drug." Teodora hesitated. "Those who are familiar with it will know how sick a man can get if he takes much of it and then stops. The muggles call it withdrawal I think. My _tata_ told me it was as if the filter was gone from his brain and nerves and so he could feel everything, and everything hurt. This is what _denatura_ would have done to you. When you cast the curse, you damaged your filters so they will waste away; and the pain of it would have sent you mad. Shame wants this. But _Rusine_ will heal."

"What is a _tata_?"

"_Tata _means father."

Hermione felt immediately keen to steer the conversation in another direction. "Can you tell me about the _Rusine _potion?"

"It is made up of all things pure, because the _denatura _curse is... _boala_? Sick. It is sickness. It has the shavings of a unicorn's horn for innocence; the petals of the Rosa Canina, the dog rose, for fallen beauty and the blood of the drinker, to cleanse her blood of shame."

Hermione looked alarmed and Teodora laughed lowly. "Do not worry, little one, it will be a prick of the finger. It does not hurt. I need only three drops."

Hermione's mind began to tick, slowly, back into action. Her thoughts were picking up. "Have you thought about trying to adapt the potion? I mean, if what you say is true, then casting the curse on oneself slowly dissolves the filter. But cast it on someone else and the filter is completely removed, if only while the curse lasts. If one casts the curse over and over again, the filter will eventually begin to break down, right? Which will drive those experiencing it mad. So couldn't it be used to heal the madness afterwards?" Hermione said all this very quickly, thinking of Neville's parents.

Teodora looked impressed."You are very smart woman, Hermione. But, it would only ease their pain because the filter is restored. If they have been driven mad, then it is done. Once the mind is unhinged, no magical or muggle medicine can hinge it again."

Hermione frowned. "Yes I suppose that makes sense."

They reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and Teodora directed Hermione toward her office. As Hermione stepped inside, she felt as if she had walked into another country. There was no area of either the floor, the walls, or the ceiling that was not covered in colour. Instead of chairs, there were stiff cylindrical pillows on either side of a very low table that must have served as Teodora's desk. Bookshelves and cabinets lined three of the walls and the light seemed to shimmer magically over every item in the room. This woman was certainly descended from gypsies.

"Sit." Teodora ordered, producing a very wide, shallow cauldron from one the cabinets and depositing it on the desk as Hermione obeyed.

"It is a _cazan. _We need low cauldrons to brew on the ground over fire." said the older woman over her shoulder as she noticed Hermione staring at the cauldron in confusion.

Teodora settled an armful of bottles and boxes on the floor beside her seat. She sat down on one of the cushions and gazed at her student levelly but Hermione's mind was still lost in thoughts over the _Rusine _potion.

"So," she began to add ingredients to the _cazan_ almost absent-mindedly, "We will be here for two hours. Will you be silent all that time?" she smiled kindly.

Hermione took a breath. "I'm sorry. I feel a bit overwhelmed at the moment."

"Good. So you feel shame and you feel overwhelmed. What else?"

Hermione scrunched up her face in thought. "I feel embarrassed."

"Embarrassed? Why?"

"Because I did a stupid thing. And I didn't want anyone to worry about me. And now they are. I feel guilty."

"Ok. So shame, overwhelmed, embarrassed, stupid and guilty."

Hermione laughed shakily. "Yeah."

"Anymore?"

Hermione hesitated. "Heartbroken."

Teodora nodded sombrely, "Heartbroken. Tell me."

Hermione recognised it as a request to for her to open up. Her knee jerk reaction was to make up an excuse and move on but watching this strange woman brew her potion, surrounded by colour and dancing lights, Hermione felt like she wanted to talk. She wanted to tell it all.

So she opened her mouth, and watched in a detached sort of way as her life began to tumble out. She told Teodora how scared and worried she was about Harry; and about how Ron had shut down and broken her heart. She told her about her shame and guilt over what she'd done with George; and how she missed her parents so much it hurt. The two hours flew by as Hermione talked endlessly, telling Teodora about the war, hunting for Horcruxes and being tortured at Malfoy Manor. Once she began, she found she could not stop. At times, her tears flowed and her hands shook but she kept going and pushed through it.

At two minutes past midnight, she finally discovered she had run out of things to say. She panicked for a moment, noticing that the weight she had grown so accustomed to feeling her chest was gone. She had the insane urge to giggle.

"You are a very brave woman, Hermione." Said Teodora, stirring the potion.

Hermione sighed. "I don't feel brave."

"No, but bravery is not about feeling no fear; it is about feeling the fear, seeing it, acknowledging it and doing it anyway."

Hermione nodded. She felt tired.

"Give me your hand. I must take the blood now."

Hermione extended her left arm, palm up, over the _cazan_ towards Teodora. She flinched as the older woman's fingers grazed the cut on the back of her hand. She looked up at Hermione with an unreadable expression before turning it over.

"Ah. I see you tried other things before the _denatura _curse. This is past magical healing but the _Rusine_ potion will fade it a little as it is also a wound of shame."

Hermione grimaced as Teodora pricked her finger with a short silver dagger and let three drops of her blood fall into the potion which turned from white to an opalescent blue. The older woman scooped a small amount of potion into a goblet and handed it to Hermione with a grin.

"It is not tasting bad. I promise."

Hermione smiled weakly and drank. The potion slid down her throat like velvet and she found that it tasted only like vaguely sweetened water. It was very cold and she felt the cold seep through her body soothingly, as if before she was burning and the potion had doused it. It eased the tension between her shoulder blades and soothed the angry little girl that had been running around in the back of her mind for months, setting everything in there on fire.

Hermione looked up at Teodora over the rim of the goblet and beamed.

* * *

Jerry - Thanks for the love! And I'm glad you liked George. He's one of my favourites. And yes, our little group of Gryffindors are most adorable. Rest assured they will be making many appearances in the chapters to come!


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

FUEL

_"Is he different, has he changed what he's about? Or is he just a liar with nothing to lie about?"_

The _Rusine_ potion carried Hermione home that night. She didn't think she'd felt so light in years and she didn't know whether to thank the potion or her conversation with Teodora. She had talked more than she had since the war. Either way, she almost skipped down Diagon Alley, quiet and awash with moonlight, to Flourish and Blotts.

Once back inside her flat, she made herself a cup of tea, took a large block of chocolate and her favourite book into her bedroom where she sat them on the nightstand and lit the lantern beside her bed. She stepped out of her robes and threw on her old overlarge quidditch jersey.

The bed loomed in her vision ominously. Could she go one night without crying into her pillow? Twenty four hours ago she would have said no. But tonight was different. It was a fresh start. She'd found her old tenacity, her old motivation. She would be different. Hermione stared down at her four poster bed, put her hand on her hip and held out a reprimanding finger.

"Not tonight. I am going to drink my tea, eat my chocolate and read my book; and afterwards, you are going to provide me with a peaceful night's sleep. Understand? No more crying and no more bad dreams for a little while." she said aloud.

The bed did not respond and Hermione took that as silent confirmation.

"Good. Thank you."

She climbed under the covers, picked up her book and took a sip of tea as Crookshanks leapt up onto the bed, slipping under to nestle against her leg.

Fifteen minutes later, her tea and chocolate consumed, Hermione went to sleep and did not cry. Not even a little bit.

The next day, Hermione rose much earlier than usual and decided to eat breakfast in the great hall with the rest of the students at Hogwarts. At seven am she apparated to Hogsmeade station and strolled up to the castle. Frost was beginning to coat the ground as the summer months died and the grass crunched under her feet. A breeze whipped curls across her face and she smiled, breathing deep the fresh, cool air. She loved the quiet chill of the early morning. The sky was a brilliant, shining blue and the sun beat down on her pleasantly.

She stomped up the steps, through the entrance hall and into breakfast. The house tables in the great hall held only a smattering of students as it was too early for most. Hermione noticed Malfoy sitting at the Slytherin table, hunched over a mug of coffee, blonde hair falling over his eyes. She scowled. He looked up at her momentarily, showed absolutely no sign that he recognised her at all, and went back to his coffee. She raised her eyebrows, cursing him in her head, insulted at his lack of reaction. She had to laugh at herself when the words, 'don't you know who I _am_?' rose up on her tongue.

Hermione turned her back on Malfoy and sat down at the Gryffindor table alone as Neville and Ginny hadn't come down to breakfast yet. The hall was bright with the sunlight and hung in a peaceful quiet despite the occasional mumbled conversation. As Hermione dragged a plate of toast and a pitcher of pumpkin juice towards her, a small body stepped over the bench to sit beside her. She turned to see Ebony grinning at her with far too much enthusiasm for so early in the morning.

"Hi Hermione!" she squeaked.

"Oh hey, Ebony." Hermione smiled.

"Mind if we sit with you?"

Hermione shook her head as Noah, Felix and Gypsy joined them, climbing onto benches beside and across from her.

"Still don't understand why we had to wake up so early." Felix grumbled seizing a piece of toast in his fist.

"Because it's our first day! I don't know how any of you could even sleep. Honestly." Ebony rolled her eyes.

Hermione laughed loudly. Is this what she'd been like when she was young? When surrounded by these persistently happy little Gryffindors, Hermione could hardly believe there'd been a war at all. But where had they been during the battle and the months leading up to it?

"So what have you guys got first?" she asked, shaking herself out of her dark thoughts.

"Potions with Slughorn." said Gypsy, spearing a sausage with her fork.

"Has he inducted any of you into the Slug Club yet?" asked Hermione with a wry grin.

"Only Ebony." replied Noah somewhat resentfully.

"But he was asking about your uncle last year, Noah. Maybe he'll invite you to one of his dinners this year." said Ebony, her voice rising sympathetically.

"Who's your uncle?" asked Hermione curiously.

Noah didn't seem to want to answer. He ducked his head, staring down into his porridge.

"He doesn't like to tell people." said Gypsy, giggling.

"That's not true!" said Noah hotly. He looked at Hermione and mumbled, "Cornelius Fudge."

Hermione began to laugh. "Ok, I can understand why you don't want people to know now."

Noah blushed as his three friends joined in with Hermione's laughter.

Hermione put her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh. I bet he's a… a really nice man." she tried to sound reassuring.

Noah smiled at her and shrugged, as his friends continued to chuckle.

The topic of conversation soon turned to the next Hogsmeade weekend and the four friends began to talk animatedly; comparing Zonko's Joke shop to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Hermione tuned them out. There was still another hour and a half before classes began and she wondered what she might do with the time. She was already thinking of beating the familiar path up to the library but she had no homework yet and nothing she could remember wanting to research.

But there had been something. Something her land lord had said when he showed her around her flat a week ago. It was about the buzzing. Hermione had become so used to it that she had ceased to notice the constant hum the thrummed through her space. Mr Flourish had piqued her curiosity when he told her they were taboo in the wizarding world.

Hermione stood up, hoisting her bag, which was typically crammed with books, onto her shoulder. The four third years looked at her quizzically.

"I'm off to the library, you guys enjoy your classes." she began to walk away, "And pay attention ok?"

They all nodded, grinned and bade her goodbye.

Hermione strolled though the quiet and familiar corridors up to her favourite place in the entire world. The memorable scent that seemed to only inhabit that space reached out to engulf her as she walked through the large wooden doors and she grinned. Hogwarts library was a great, cavernous space of epic proportions, crammed with the knowledge of generations of wizards and witches. But it still managed to feel cosy and homely to her.

She strolled through the familiar aisles and began to pull titles from the shelves. Once she had a large stack of old tomes hovering along behind her, she made her way to one of the tables in the far corner of the library so she would not be disturbed. The autumn chill bit at her hands but she ignored it, dragging _Great Structures of Wizarding History_ across the table towards her and scanning the index. But there was nothing on Dividing Lines. _An Advanced Guide to Protective Enchantments _and _Architectural Magic and How to do it _all proved equally disappointing. _The Complete Compendium of Wards _had a small footnote warning people against setting wards through living spaces but didn't elaborate as to why.

She recalled Mr Flourish saying that most wizards were superstitious about the concept of Dividing Lines and so perhaps she might find some mention of them in the more superstitious texts? After replacing the books she had taken, she returned minutes later to the table with _Taboo and You: a Wizards Guide to Unmentionable Magic_, _Superstitious Signs _and _The Encyclopaedia of Little Know Majiks_. She was frustrated to discover that all of these proved as useless as the first four.

Hermione trawled the shelves for the better part of an hour before she began to get truly irritated. Never had she been unable to find what she was looking for in the Hogwarts library. Even when it had not immediately given results in the past, it was only because she had not been looking in the right places.

So she tried searching through books on medieval magic only to find nothing; books on defence, famous witches and wizards, and dark magic yielded just as little information.

Thoroughly annoyed, Hermione decided to seek out Madam Pince as a last resort.

She found the librarian packing away books in the magical creatures section.

"Madam Pince?"

The older woman jumped and rounded on Hermione.

"Oh! Miss Granger! How can I help you?"

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I heard a term the other day that I didn't fully understand and I haven't been able to find any books on the subject."

"Well, that's unlike you! What is it?"

"Dividing Lines. Do you know anything about them?"

Madam Pince looked stricken for a moment before she huffed defensively, "Certainly not! And if I did, I wouldn't tell you!"

Hermione frowned, confused. "But, why-"

The librarian cut across her. "I know nothing about such things, and I'm ashamed at you for mentioning it! Now, out! _Out_!"

Madam Pince shooed Hermione out of the library angrily, shoving her bag into her arms as Hermione stumbled into the hallway.

The library doors slammed closed behind the librarian and Hermione stared at them, dumbfounded. Madam Pince was known for her quick temper, but she had never treated Hermione with so much disdain.

So perhaps Dividing Lines weren't as innocent as they sounded? Hermione knew she should leave them be, especially if they were considered dark magic. But she didn't even know if they were. And she couldn't walk away from a mystery unsolved. That just wasn't her.

She decided that she'd have to find out about them somehow. She hadn't the faintest idea where to start, but she'd get there. She always did.

Hermione checked her watch. There was still another twenty minutes until her first Defence Against the Dark Arts class, but perhaps she could see if Teodora fancied some tea beforehand.

She began making her way down the hall, still lost in thought over the librarian's reaction to her question and wondering about Dividing lines.

Not watching where she was going, she collided with a body, and dropped her bag.

"Oh, sorry." the person said courteously.

Hermione was about to tell them that it was quite alright when she turned and saw who had run into her. She felt her face burn angrily. "Watch it _Malfoy_." she snarled.

He looked momentarily shocked at her attitude, as if it was entirely unexpected, before muttering, "sorry." again and turning away.

She stared at his retreating form, her mouth hanging open unattractively. Malfoy's did not apologise. He must have been mocking her in some convoluted way.

"_What?_" she hissed. He paused mid step and turned around.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly, politely, "Pardon?"

She walked towards him, fists clenched at her side, leaving her bag on the floor where it had fallen.

"What did you say to me?" she growled.

"I said I was sorry." he looked confused. "What's the problem?"

"The problem?" she laughed cruelly, "It might have something do with the fact that you're a _liar _and a death eater. You might have manipulated McGonagall and enchanted the rest of the school with that pathetic speech, Malfoy, but you don't fool me. I _know_ you. I know what kind of human being you are. _You_ are the type of gutless, poor excuse for a man who stands by and watches others get tortured, you evil, conniving fuckwit!" her chest heaved as she stared him down, the words pouring from her mouth like verbal diarrhoea. He looked so confused by her outburst; she wished with all her heart that she could revisit their third year and strike him.

He stared back at her, frowning sightly as if deciding what to do. She could practically hear the cogs in his head turning. After a moment he smirked and sauntered towards her, hands in his pockets. The gesture was so familiar to Hermione and brought back so many horrible memories that her palms sweated and she felt sick.

"What do you want, Granger? A hug?" he sneered.

The fog cleared from her mind and Hermione pointed her finger at him, laughing maniacally. "HA! I KNEW IT! I _knew_ it! I knew that speech was bullshit! You're exactly the same as you've always been aren't you?!"

Malfoy laughed condescendingly and shook his head. "I don't have to prove _anything_ to you, Granger."

He turned to walk away but Hermione wasn't done.

"What? No parting words of wisdom, Malfoy?" she called after him, "Not going to make fun of my hair or teeth? Not going to call me a _mudblood_?"

He stopped and turned towards her slowly. She almost flinched as he strode forwards until their faces were inches apart.

"_Do not use that word in front of me._" his voice was almost a whisper, low and threatening.

The taunting smile vanished from Hermione's face but she held his gaze defiantly.

"_Mudblood_. That's what I am, isn't it, Malfoy? Look!" she pulled up her right sleeve, "Your aunt left me a little reminder, just in case I forgot!"

The word shone silver on her arm and Malfoy stared at it silently. He looked sick.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "What is _wrong_ with you?" she said quietly, "What? Did Voldemort remove your spine? Can't handle a little scar? Must be a refreshing change from the Dark Mark on _your_ arm. Because to tell you the truth," she leaned closer to his face, her voice lowering maliciously, "I'd rather bear this scar for the rest of my life than ever have to set eyes on _that _again_._"

Malfoy's right hand twitched as he stared down at her. For a moment, a look of distress crossed his face and Hermione almost felt guilty. _Almost_.

He took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry for running into you. Don't forget your bag."

And with that, he turned and marched away from her, down the corridor.

* * *

Hermione was five minutes late to Defence Against the Dark Arts as she'd spent too much time standing in the corridor outside the library staring into the space Malfoy had vacated.

She had absolutely no idea what to make of him at all. On the one hand, he seemed completely out of character. He had apologised to her when he'd run into her for god's sake. But perhaps he'd always done that, just never with her? Some of the looks he'd given her and some of the things he'd said were exactly like normal though, which led her to believe that his mask was slipping.

Thankfully, when she finally arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, completely out of breath, she found that their teacher had not yet arrived.

She noted that the classroom looked much the same as Teodora's office. Her classmates were seated on the stiff cylindrical pillows in front of low tables. The room danced with colour in the same magical sort of way and Hermione felt instantly at home. She was disappointed to see that Malfoy had not chosen to give up the class like Neville and was sprawled casually on one of the cylindrical pillows. He rolled his eyes when he saw her enter, as if he was thinking exactly the same thing.

She also noted that this class was the smallest she had ever been in; consisting of only nine other students, some she recognised and some she did not. Ginny, Luna, Susan Bones and Padma Patil sat together up the front with a brown haired Gryffindor girl Hermione didn't know. Blaise Zabini sat with a blonde Slytherin girl, their heads together, whispering near the back. Hermione took a seat behind a Hufflepuff seventh year she'd never seen before, well away from Malfoy.

Minutes later, Teodora exited her office and stood in front of the class. She took a moment to study each member individually, as if sizing them all up, before she spoke.

"My name is Teodora. I am not professor and I will not answer to ma'am or miss. You will call me by the name my _mamica_ gave me and nothing else. This is because we are equals. I will not call you by your last names. You will not call each other by your last names. Because you are equals. You are _tovarasi_. This means 'comrades'.

"For many years you have been taught to defend yourselves against whatever curse or dangerous creatures may sit in your path. And in the last year, you used those skills well in your war. But never have you learned how to defend yourselves from the dark arts. Tell me, how many of you have used a curse on another person? Raise your hands."

All of them bar the brown haired Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff in front of Hermione put their hands in the air. Teodora nodded as if this came as no surprise to her.

"Now, how many of you have cast an unforgiveable curse?"

All the Slytherins in the class kept their hands in the air and so, to everyone's surprise, did Hermione. She had, after all, tried to use the _cruciatus_ curse on herself mere days ago. Ginny stared back at her, frowning.

"So. You four have heard the call of the dark arts. You four are the ones who know how hard it is to walk away from afterwards. This is what I will teach you. This year, we will not be learning counter curse or jinxes, we will not be learning about werewolves or Dementors. This year we learn to protect our minds and our souls from the dark arts."

Teodora paused as the class looked up at her suspiciously. To say that she wasn't unorthodox would have been a lie. Hermione couldn't decide whether she thought this was all a horrible idea, or a brilliant one.

"Look at the people around you. From today, these people will be your peers for the rest of your lives. You are all joined by this school, by this class and by your war, no matter which side you are on. Whether you like each other or not, you are now _tovarasi._"

Teodora stopped to stare around at them all. Hermione seemed to share the general feeling of contempt for considering some of her other classmates 'comrades'.

"Everyone stand."

The class obeyed, and with a wave of her wand, Teodora moved the tables and pillows to stack neatly along the walls of the room.

"Form a circle." They did. Hermione stood between Luna and Ginny with a rising feeling of trepidation.

Teodora began pacing around the outside of their circle. "Now. I want you to tell your _tovarasi_ your name and what you did in the last year of the war."

Everyone, no matter what side they fell on, seemed shocked and unhappy about this task. Teodora pointed at Ginny, who looked alarmed. "You go first."

Ginny glanced nervously at Hermione who shrugged sympathetically. She looked back at Teodora. "My name's Ginny Weasley and-"

Teodora cut across her. "No, no, do not tell me, tell _them_." She gestured to the rest of the group.

Ginny looked grumpy and took a breath, staring around at her classmates. "My name is Ginny Weasley. I… um… I was here until about halfway through the year. Then I went home."

Teodora gave Ginny a long suffering look. "Ok, now tell us what you _did_. What was your contribution?"

Ginny frowned. "Well, we had these teachers. The Carrows. They were really cruel and they liked to hurt people. I guess I tried to help protect the younger students."

"You took curses for children, Ginny?" asked Teodora.

Ginny nodded and stared hard down at her feet.

"And then? You left, why?"

"My brother was one the run with Harry and Hermione and he'd been sighted. So my parents withdrew me."

Teodora nodded and gestured towards the rest of the class. "Thank her for her contribution."

Hermione chimed "Thanks Ginny" along with everyone else. Ginny gave a small smile.

Teodora pointed at Zabini. "Now you."

He jut his chin out defiantly and glared superiorly at his classmates, "My name is Blaise Zabini. My family remained neutral. I attended Hogwarts and attempted to stay out of trouble."

To Hermione's surprise, Ginny scoffed.

"Pretty comfy in the green zone wasn't it?"

Blaise's eyes flashed angrily. "Sorry I don't have the hero complex like you and Saint Potter."

"Fuck off Zabini."

Like the rest of the class, Hermione looked quickly at Teodora, expecting her to step in or reprimand Ginny for swearing but the older woman just continued to stalk around the outside of the circle, watching the exchange between Ginny and Zabini with what seemed like polite interest.

"The world isn't split up into angels and death eaters, Weasley. Just because I sat on the fence does not mean I am an awful human being." said Zabini imperiously.

"Her name is Ginny, Blaise." Teodora reprimanded, "Now tell me. What do you mean by sitting on the fence? Explain."

"I don't condone violence, but I'm not interested in taking a curse to prevent it." said Zabini.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Alright. Was that all?" Teodora looked between Ginny and Zabini, who both stared resolutely at the ground. She nodded approvingly. "Good. Now thank him for his contribution."

Ginny looked mutinous but grumbled, "Thank you." along with the rest of the class.

Teodora gestured toward the blonde Slytherin girl standing beside Zabini.

"My name is Isobel Holub. My father was a death eater. I attended Hogwarts and did whatever the Carrows told me to do." She stared angrily at Ginny as she spoke, as if daring the redhead to pick a fight with her as well.

"Is your father in Azkaban?" asked Teodora.

The cockiness in Isobel's eyes seemed to disintegrate.

"No."

"He is running?"

A nerve twitched in girl's face. "My father would never run."

"He is dead?"

Isobel nodded, her jaw working backwards and forwards, staring at Teodora with open hatred.

"Do you know who killed him, Isobel?"

"The Dark Lord."

"How do you know this?"

Isobel's eyes began to water. "I saw it." she said through clenched teeth, her face stony.

The class remained silent. Hermione stared at Isobel, her heart clenching as she watches the girl's face. A battle fought itself away in her head. Isobel's father was a death eater, so didn't he deserve what he got? But by the same token, did Isobel deserve to see it?

Teodora ordered them to thank her. They did. She gestured for them to move on.

The small brown haired Gryffindor next in line looked like she wanted to reach out to Isobel and offer her comfort. She jumped when she realised Teodora was looking at her expectantly. "Um… my name is Juliet DeMarco. My parents are muggleborn. They took me and my brothers into hiding in Thailand. I sat on a beach for a year." she laughed nervously. "But it wasn't… I didn't like it. I wanted to come back and help but mum wouldn't let me… I didn't know who would be alive when we came back. I didn't know if my friends were ok. I wasn't allowed to write to anyone."

"Did you lose friends in this war?" asked Teodora.

Juliet nodded and put her hand over her mouth.

"Who?"

Juliet looked up at her pleadingly, as if begging her not to make her speak. Strangely, her eyes shifted to Ginny who looked confused.

"Fred Weasley. He was… We were…"

Hermione gasped and Ginny let out a small squeak.

"He was what, Juliet?" pressed Teodora.

Juliet shook her head, her face wet with tears. "I can't."

Teodora nodded.

"Thank you." said Ginny thickly. The class followed suit.

Teodora pointed at Padma next who shifted uncomfortably.

"My name is Padma Patil. I was here at Hogwarts last year. I, um, tried to teach myself medicinal magic so I could heal students who had been injured because the Carrows wouldn't let muggleborns or half bloods into the hospital wing."

"Why did you do this?" asked Teodora.

"I just wanted to help." said Padma in a small voice.

"Is that all?"

Padma took a breath as if she realised she'd have to open up for Teodora to leave her alone.

"My twin sister. The Carrows broke all the fingers on her right hand for writing notes to her friend during class. They wouldn't let her go to the hospital wing. I couldn't help her. So I went to the library and smuggled out a book on healing so that I could."

Padma received an extra strong 'thank you' from everyone in the room and Hermione got the feeling that the Ravenclaw girl hadn't just healed half bloods and muggleborns.

The Hufflepuff boy Hermione sat behind at the beginning of the lesson was next. "My name is Eli Jackson. I tried to go on the run with my family but we were captured by some snatchers and sent to Azkaban early in the year." he said all this very quickly.

"The Dementors guarded your cell, Eli?"

He nodded. "Day and night."

"Did you see them give the kiss?"

"I did. Many times. The cells were overcrowded. They wouldn't take those who were kissed out afterwards. So we had to feed them and…" his voice faltered.

"How did you survive it with your mind, Eli?" asked Teodora quietly.

"I had a book." he answered, "I hid it in my shirt when they took us. I read it every day." he shook his head, "Don't ask me what it is. I won't tell you."

Teodora nodded and the class thanked him without prompting.

Next came Susan. "My name is Susan Bones. I spent the year camping in Ireland, trying to stay away from snatchers." she looked marginally guilty, given that Eli had just said he'd been taken to Azkaban, but he smiled at her kindly and she visibly relaxed.

"Were you alone, Susan?" asked Teodora.

"I was at first, but I met a group of Irish wizards who were on the run too and they helped me. For a little while. But then I left them."

"Why?"

Susan wrung her hands as they began to shake and her voice rose in pitch slightly. "We were out in the middle of nowhere… There weren't any women. Only me. It was my fault really. I wasn't… I wasn't thinking."

Hermione's stomach lurched and she thought for a moment that she was going to vomit. The other girls in the circle looked equally as pale. The boys looked like they didn't want to hear it.

"It's alright, Susan. I will not make you go on."

Susan muttered "Thank you." and Teodora patted her shoulder as she walked past. The first contact she had made with any of the students that lesson.

Hermione felt her insides clench as she realised who was next.

"My name is Draco Malfoy. I was a death eater. And I do not want to be thanked for that."

Teodora stopped her pacing and looked at him. "Draco, I would like for you to tell us what it was like to take the life of another person."

Malfoy looked stricken. The effect on the rest of the class was profound.

Juliet shrieked. Isobel was shaking her head backwards forwards violently. "No! I don't want to hear it!"

Susan had actually clapped her hands over her ears. Ginny cradled her stomach, as if she might be sick. Zabini had turned his head away from Malfoy in disgust. Eli was swaying dangerously. Padma was staring at Malfoy in wide eyed horror, as if she only just seen him properly.

Teodora ignored the rest of the class and stared hard at Malfoy.

Hermione prayed with everything she had that he would refuse to answer, that he would let Teodora pass on to Luna.

He opened his mouth.

"I didn't." he said quietly, "I have never cast the killing curse."

"Never?" asked Teodora.

"Never."

Their teacher beamed. "Then you are no death eater."

Malfoy seemed to deflate. Hermione thought for a second that she saw his eyes glisten, but he ducked his head and stared at the floor.

"Thank him." ordered Teodora.

The class all said "Thank you." quietly, but Hermione kept her mouth firmly shut. She would not thank him. He may have never taken someone's life but he still tortured them. He still stood by and did nothing. Teodora caught her eye, and Hermione knew her teacher had noticed but she remained silent.

Teodora pointed at Luna who smiled serenely beside Hermione. "My name is Luna Lovegood. I attended Hogwarts for the first half of the year before I was taken off the Hogwarts Express by death eaters and then I spent the rest of the time in Draco's basement." she looked directly at Malfoy and he stared back at her. He looked scared. Luna tilted her head to the side slightly. "The accommodation was alright but I didn't care for the food…"

There was a moment of deathly silence before Malfoy smiled. Juliet let out a chuckle and immediately clapped her hands over her mouth in shock. Ginny seemed to find this funny and she laughed. Soon, the whole class was giggling at Luna and Juliet. The tension in the air receded like the tide.

Hermione did not laugh. How could Luna be so forgiving? It was almost incomprehensible to Hermione how the younger girl could look at Malfoy and not want to tear out his heart. She'd seen Luna after six months in the Malfoy's basement and it didn't exactly look like she'd been on holiday.

Hermione was suddenly aware that everyone in the class was looking at her expectantly.

"My name is Hermione Granger. I…" she realised she had no idea what to say. "I…" her throat felt like it was closing up. "Um…" It was only a matter of time before the tears started flowing. Hermione began to seriously contemplate throwing herself out of the classroom window. They had all been through so much, seen so many awful things, how could she compare?

"Help her." said Teodora.

"You searched for Horcruxes." said Ginny immediately. "So that you could make Voldemort mortal again."

"You saved Ollivander and Dean and Griphook and me from Malfoy Manor." said Luna.

"You and Harry and Ron were beacons of hope for those of us in Azkaban." said Eli, to Hermione's surprise.

"Us too." said Susan.

"We knew that while you and Harry and Ron were still alive, there was something to fight for." said Padma.

"If you weren't around, the Dark Lord would still be here, tearing apart people's lives." said Isobel.

"I always had hope that my home and my friends would be alright, as long as you three kept fighting." said Juliet.

"Potter would never have gotten so far without your intelligence." said Zabini.

"You looked after them Hermione. You made sure they were safe and you took care of them." said Ginny thickly.

"You saved two death eaters from the Fiendfire they cast to kill you." said Malfoy quietly, looking like he'd eaten something sour.

The whole class said a strong "thank you" in perfect synchronicity. Even Malfoy.

Silence hung in the air and Hermione stared around at her classmates in shock. A warm feeling bloomed in her chest.

"Beautiful." said Teodora quietly, proudly, "Now, you are _tovarasi_."


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

THIS BOUQUET

_"My gaze lays like a stain on the carpeted floor."_

Hermione drifted through the rest of her week in a daze. She felt as if she was under a spell. Any time she saw any other member of her Defence Against the Dark Arts class in the corridors, she felt a compulsion to acknowledge them and it seemed as though the others felt the same. She'd even received a stiff nod from Zabini as they passed each other in the great hall two days after the lesson, something that he had never once done in all the time they had been going to Hogwarts together. Even the three Slytherins seemed to be spending more time together; Hermione noticed them eating together in the great hall and sitting together in most of the classes they shared aside from Defence Against the Dark Arts. Once or twice, she had caught sight of Malfoy talking with Eli between classes and Ginny had told Hermione one afternoon that she'd managed to have a civil conversation with Isobel Holub in the girls bathrooms. Things were changing.

Hermione ate lunch with Luna, Padma, Ginny, Susan and Juliet everyday that week. Her and Ginny seemed to have come to some kind of silent agreement. Though Hermione had told the younger woman that they would talk, Ginny seemed perfectly content that they hadn't. Their relationship had gone back to the semi close friendship they had shared before the war. Just so long as neither of them brought up Harry or Ron. Hermione didn't know, and didn't want to ask what, what was happening between her best friend and Ginny. She was shocked to discover that Ginny was residing at Hogwarts and not at the Burrow but she seemed, on the outside, like she was fine with it. Hermione was not so sure.

Hermione learnt from her little group of Gryffindor friends that, for all the lower years, Teodora was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts the same way as all her predecessors. Only the seventh year class seemed to have been introduced to the _tovarasi _concept.

She began to think that perhaps Teodora was McGonagall's secret weapon. The Headmistress had promised at the beginning of the year that she would unite the houses and it was happening. It was done so subtly that Hermione almost didn't see it. But she noticed that, whether intentional or not, the students in her class happened to all be students of influence in their respective houses which led their younger counterparts to follow in their example.

In Slytherin, Isobel appeared to be Pansy Parkinson's replacement. She was popular and many of the younger girls flocked around her. She also had the sympathies of those whose parents were death eaters, dead or in Azkaban. Zabini was powerful, well bred and good looking, looked up to by the younger boys in his house and Malfoy seemed to be regarded with a mixture of fear and awe. He still swaggered about like he owned the school but his whining, attention seeking sensibilities seemed to have waned a little, earning the respect of the younger students.

In Ravenclaw, Padma had established herself as somewhat of a mother duck during the war when she played Healer and that reputation had followed her into the new year. Luna was no longer ridiculed or made fun of, but treated like a wise old soothsayer.

In Hufflepuff, Susan had been a prefect already for three years, putting her in a position of authority over the rest of the students. She was by no means jovial, she was a quiet, serious young woman, but the younger Hufflepuffs took her word as law. And Eli, aside from being kind and easy going, was this year's quidditch captain of the Hufflepuff team.

In Gryffindor, Ginny had always been popular and pretty, but now she had Molly's stern authority behind her as well as her relationship with the Boy Who Lived, making her somewhat of a figurehead in her house. Juliet was a calm voice of reason in many conflicts and Hermione was, well, Hermione. _The_ Hermione Granger. She wasn't popular or authoritative, she was quite simply infamous, almost in the same way that Malfoy was.

The younger students watched her _tovarasi_ conversing in the corridors and she could see they noticed the aura of understanding that hung between them. It was happening slowly, almost imperceptibly, but by the end of the week, Hermione saw more Slytherins conversing with Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs in the corridors than usual. They still treated the Gryffindors with barely concealed contempt, but even that was becoming less harsh and more jovial.

The seventh year Defence Against the Dark Arts classes that took place over the course of that week, all took on the same theme as the first. Teodora seemed to have no other expectations of them other than to have them all talk to each other and share their experiences. She reprimanded them when they called each other by their last names and encouraged them to understand the complexities of each other's positions in the war. She didn't step in when they fought or swore at each other, as long as she felt they were making progress. In Tuesday's lesson, Hermione was relieved to find that Teodora did not expect them to continue the heavy conversation of the day before. Instead, she had asked them to entrust one of their _tovaras_ with a treasured possession and Hermione had handed over her old and battered copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ to Luna and had received a heavy silver chain with a tiny snake fang hanging from it from Blaise. They were to carry the object with them for a whole week so Hermione wore the chain around her neck morning and night. They had all laughed when Malfoy handed over a heavy and expensive looking black cloak to Eli who had to wear it around for the rest of the week. She saw him frequently in the corridors, sporting the pureblood finery and couldn't help but smile.

Wednesday saw them spending the first half of the lesson writing short but descriptive essays on their favourite things. Teodora had then asked them to give their writing to another member of the class to read aloud. Hermione found it surreal listening to Isobel read out her description of her love for her record player and how it made her flat feel and look different. Malfoy read out Luna's short narrative on Crumple Horned Snorkacks much to the glee of the rest of the _tovarasi_. To hear something so whimsical and fantastical coming from Malfoy's mouth was beyond hilarious and Hermione laughed along with the rest of the class.

Hermione went to Teodora's office each night after dinner to take her dose of the _Rusine _potion but Teodora did not seem to feel the need to continue their turbulent conversation of the first night. Hermione felt no resentment about this, fearing that her teacher would ask her questions about the difficulties she was having in her class.

Most of the classes had been light hearted, trust building exercises but Teodora had occasionally asked them to revisit their trauma and in these lessons, Hermione held back, choosing instead to remain silent and impassive. She clung to her resentments like lifelines and the Slytherins felt the brunt of those feelings. She could not bring herself to connect with Zabini at all, she outright disliked Isobel and she refused to call Malfoy by his first name.

And so it was that Hermione went to Teodora's office on the last night of her first week of term, thinking it would be the same as every other night and she'd be able to take her potion and go home quickly. She had a four foot Transfiguration essay to finish, due on Monday.

She knocked on the door and let it swing open. Teodora looked up from an paper she was reading and smiled.

"Hermione! Come. Sit."

She gestured to the pillow opposite her. Hermione felt immediately nervous. Teodora had not asked her to sit down with her since the night they'd met.

The older woman handed Hermione her goblet of potion, which Hermione downed in one gulp.

"So, you have been well?" asked Teodora politely.

Hermione nodded and put the goblet down on the table. Teodora looked at her expectantly and Hermione almost wanted to roll her eyes. Her teacher exercised this technique in class all the time. She would sit quietly and watch until the person she had targeted continued to talk just to break the silence. Hermione was not as easily manipulated.

She stared back at her teacher silently, defiantly, until Teodora laughed.

"You are stubborn like me Hermione. Let's stop this now. I want to talk to you about our lessons."

Hermione smiled wryly. "I thought as much."

"I am not surprised. You are smart woman, as I have said before. So I am confused. Why are you finding this so hard?"

"I do not wish to associate with death eaters." said Hermione through clenched teeth. Once upon a time she would have felt embarrassed at her own impertinence, but Teodora regularly reminded them to be open and honest with her and not pander to her just because she was a teacher. So Hermione spoke to her like a friend.

"Ah. So this is about Draco. But he is your _tovaras._"

Hermione sneered, "Malfoy is no comrade of mine."

"You do not trust him?"

Hermione laughed sarcastically. "Certainly not."

"Why?"

"He has never given me any reason to."

"But he is here, is he not? He is not in Azkaban with his parents, nor is he running like death eaters who are not caught."

"So? Malfoy likes his comfort. Being on the run or in Azkaban wouldn't suit him."

"You seem to think you know him well."

Hermione stared at Teodora. Of course she knew him well, she'd only been going to school with him for seven years. What was her teacher getting at?

"Have you ever spoken with him?" asked Teodora.

Hermione laughed again, "Of course I have! I've known him for -"

"Seven years, yes. But I mean have you shared conversation as well as insults?"

Hermione clenched her teeth, knowing that to tell Teodora the truth would prove the older woman's point. "No. Never."

"Hmm. Well I have spoken with him. Many times. Do you take me as a stupid woman, Hermione?"

"No! Of course not!"

Hermione thought Teodora was anything but stupid.

"Well. Then perhaps you might trust me. And I trust him. You must not see it so black and white. I may not trust that he has renounced your Dark Lord's ideals entirely, but I trust that he is trying to change his mind. I think Draco has suffered much and his loyalties are changing little by little. You, I think, are not making it easy for him." Teodora looked at Hermione sternly. "Let us say, for now, that he wants to be different. Should you not accept that? Let him try. And after, you may choose not to like him because he can be childlike, I know this, or because he has the arrogance of his money. You may choose not to like him as a person. But do not presume to judge him on his past. Hate him for the right reasons, Hermione. This is all I ask."

Hermione nodded, fully aware that she had lost this round. She promised her teacher she would think about what she'd said and half meant it. Teodora gave her two vials of the _Rusine _potion to take over the weekend before she left.

"You are both more the same than you might think. But I, at least, thought you more mature than him." said Teodora as Hermione made to walk out of her office.

Hermione turned to look at her teach who raised her eyebrows challengingly. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean, the you and Draco are the same in class. You both are cold and do not talk. You both rebel against the bonds of the _tovarasi_. I would have thought you would be the better person."

Teodora smiled and Hermione left with her mind reeling.

* * *

That night, Hermione mulled over Teodora's words as she cooked dinner and she hated the idea that her teacher may actually be right. Hermione wasn't being the better person in this scenario, she was being exactly the same. She was being just as immature and sulky as Draco Malfoy. The thought made her want to vomit.

Besides, even if Malfoy wasn't changing, what was the point in being horrible to him every chance she got? What would it get her, apart from the opportunity to jump up and down screaming "I knew it" when he finally showed his true colours? And how was she supposed to set an example to the younger students if she couldn't have a single civil conversation with him? She accepted the fact that not every Slytherin was evil, just him, so the younger generations shouldn't have to suffer for her grudge. The Gryffindors and Slytherins in the years below her were still butting somewhat against the new standards of house unity at Hogwarts, but if she was to be seen talking with Malfoy, they may change their attitude a little.

She resolved to be better. She could still hate him, could still think him an evil, conniving fuckwit in her head, but she would try and talk to him. She would try and be better in class. She knew Teodora wanted her to open up and let go of her resentments but Hermione didn't think she was quite ready for that yet. So she'd fake it til she made it.

Before she went to bed, she listened to her records and did her homework. Once she was done, she decided that, seeing as it had been over a week, she would write to George. He hadn't broken down her door yet but she didn't quite trust him not to do it.

_Dear George,_

_I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write. Please don't knock down my door! I'm ok. I wasn't for a little while but now, being back at Hogwarts has offered me some distraction and I'm finally starting to feel better._

_I'm really, really sorry for what happened last time we saw each other. I'm sorry for using you. I don't want our friendship to be affected by it and I hope you don't hate me._

_I'd like to have dinner again soon so we can talk but I've got a ridiculous amount of homework to do and have to start work at the shop soon so I'm not sure when I'll be able to see you. Look out for my owl and I'll let you know, ok?_

_Miss you,_

_Hermione._

She knew as she sealed the letter and gave it to Sev who shot out her open balcony door and into the night, that she wasn't being entirely honest when she told George she was too busy to see him. But she still wasn't feeling quite back to normal and didn't want a repeat of their last meeting. She knew that if she was going to see George again, she'd have to wait until she was feeling a little more stable.

He deserved that.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione ate a breakfast, that consisted of a croissant and a mug of overly sweet coffee, on her balcony. Wrapped in her throw rug and a hastily uttered warming charm to ward against the cold, she proof read the assignments she had completed the night before, occasionally making corrections here and there. Autumn was properly falling over Diagon Alley now and though the sun shone beautifully out of a clear blue sky, it was beginning to get deathly cold.

The street below her bustled with wizards and witches doing their weekend shopping and Hermione was comforted by the sounds that drifted up to her from the street. She liked being above it all, a part of it, but not.

Suddenly, her concentration was broken by a voice calling out to her from below.

"Granger? Is that you?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder through the bars to see Blaise Zabini looking up at her. She stood, leaned over the railing and waved awkwardly, surprised that he had called out to her at all. He appeared equally shocked.

"Do you… want a croissant?" she asked, more because she couldn't think of a single other thing to say.

He shrugged and, to her surprise, nodded. Hermione almost laughed. She hadn't imagined in a million years that he would actually say yes.

"Oh! Um… Ok. Wait there." She walked back into her flat and out her door, hoping that she did actually have more croissants in her pantry. Moments later she met him in the street and, wordlessly, led him back up to her flat. He stood awkwardly in the archway that divided her kitchen from her living room while she found him a plate and established that there were indeed more croissants to be had.

"Coffee?" she asked, her voice unnaturally high.

"Please. Black. No sugar." he replied woodenly.

She fixed him a cup and handed it and the croissant to him.

"Would you like to sit on the balcony?" Hermione asked awkwardly.

He nodded and followed her outside. She lay the blanket she had wrapped around herself down on the tiled floor of the balcony.

He sat down awkwardly. She could tell he was by no means accustomed to sitting on the floor and she felt suddenly self conscious, she was still in her oversized quidditch jersey and tights after all. He began to nibble on the corner of the croissant as she joined him, leaning against the wall so she wouldn't have to look in his direction. They sat in silence for a moment.

"So this is weird." said Hermione.

Zabini laughed and nodded, "Most certainly."

"Why did you even call out to me?" she asked, lightly, deciding that the situation might be easier if she were blunt.

"I honestly don't know. I wasn't going to but it seemed wrong not to. Ever since that damn Defence class, it's been like that." he replied, sipping his coffee and making an appreciative noise.

"I'm glad it's not just me then. She's probably put a compulsion on us."

Zabini nodded seriously, then leant towards Hermione. "I spent twenty minutes standing in a corridor talking to Eli, a _Hufflepuff_, about quidditch the other day. I certainly think there is something more ominous afoot here. I mean, a _Hufflepuff_." He rolled his eyes.

Hermione laughed, "I think eating breakfast with a Gryffindor is probably considered far worse."

"What _will _people think?" Zabini took on a look of mock panic and Hermione giggled.

"So do you like her? Teodora?" she asked.

"Yes I think so."

"You know she's half blood." said Hermione without thinking. This is exactly what she'd promised herself to avoid. She knew she was just trying to get a rise out of him.

He surprised her by saying, "So? I believe in breeding, not blood. Draco's the one who cares about that nonsense. Or he used to anyway."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She couldn't help herself. "So you think he was serious about all that stuff he said at the feast?"

Zabini thought for a moment, chewing on his croissant. "I think it was certainly played up a lot, but it was a public speech. It's supposed to be motivational. In essence, Draco's the same person as before, really." Hermione felt a savage glee at this before he continued, "But his ideals and opinions have changed, most certainly. He's very touchy about blood purity ideals now, even in private."

"But what if it's an act?"

"It might be I suppose. But why do it in the privacy of his own house? And has Draco ever been that great an actor? Remember in third year with that Hippogriff? Everyone could see he was milking it. No, it's always been Lucius who was the actor. Draco was too spoilt."

Hermione frowned in thought. Zabini had a point.

"I've an idea." he said suddenly, "Let's not talk about all that. I am, most mysteriously, having breakfast with you so let's not turn it into a bloodbath shall we?"

Hermione laughed. "Good idea. We can always just bring it up in class on Monday anyway, huh? Speaking of which, how goes Susan's charm bracelet?"

Zabini lifted the cuff of his cloak to reveal the gold bracelet on his wrist. "And you? You haven't lost my chain have you?" he asked her drolly.

Hermione fished the chain from the depths of her quidditch jersey to show Zabini.

He smiled and nodded approvingly. "So you live here?"

Hermione nodded.

"I'd heard you were living with the Weasleys. Aren't you… with Potter's lackey? Rupert or whatever his name was?"

"I was but I left. Ron and I broke up." Hermione swiftly changed the subject. "Are you living at Hogwarts?"

Zabini shook his head. "No. My mother bought me an apartment here in Diagon Alley."

Hermione choked a little on her coffee. "Ah, wow! That's… Nice of her. Where is it?"

"A little further down from Gringotts."

"Oh, I've never been down there. It's only residential isn't it?"

He nodded and sipped his coffee again and Hermione was struck with a thought.

"Hey Zabini, you wouldn't happen to know anything about Dividing Lines would you?"

He looked at her sharply. "Why?"

She had a strange feeling that if she told him her flat fell on one, he might leave, very quickly.

"Oh, just a term I heard. I don't know anything about it and I figured seeing as you're pureblood, you might have heard of them." she said lightly.

He gave her a long, searching look. "I don't know much. Just that it's considered dark magic. But I wouldn't go asking just anyone if I were you, Granger. It might give them the wrong idea."

Hermione threw her hands in the air in frustration. "But I don't understand! Why is everyone so freaked out them?" she huffed.

Zabini shifted uncomfortably. "Well… from what I've heard they have a lot to do with blood and sex rites. It's old magic."

Hermione blushed. "Oh. Right, well yes that would do it."

Zabini finished off his croissant and sipped his coffee, seeming troubled. He kept glancing over at Hermione with a mix of suspicion and respect.

Hermione knew that modern wizards were greatly distrustful of magic that involved sex or blood rites. There weren't any potions around anymore that required human blood. Hermione could only recall one and that was the potion that had been used to resurrect Voldemort. And so they had, most certainly, been put in the category of dark magic but Hermione couldn't particularly understand why, unless the blood or sex was taken by force. But if you weren't taking it be force, what was the problem? Perhaps the wizarding world had been infected by prudishness the same way the muggle world had.

Zabini cleared his throat awkwardly. "You know, if you really want to know about that sort of thing, you should ask Draco. The library at the manor is huge and full of old tomes on dark magic. And I know for a fact that he's read every single book in it. He'd tell you."

Hermione couldn't help herself, she laughed cynically. "Yeah I'll keep that in mind next time we're braiding each other's hair and gabbing about the Weird Sisters."

Both her and Zabini seemed to realise at the same time how ridiculous this image was and snickered.

"Oh, I've _got _to see that! Please invite me along next time the two of you have a play date!" he said, slapping his knee.

"Sure, I'll do that!" Hermione giggled.

They fell into a companionable silence and stared out into the street, watching the passersby. Hermione thought that perhaps Zabini wasn't so bad once he got comfortable. The person she'd seen in the corridors was always staring down his nose at other people, but he didn't seem so caught up in that right then. He was still quite stiff and spoke with an upper-class accent that she found just a little too aristocratic, but once she got past that, his sarcastic sense of humour fit right in with her own. She liked him.

Hermione's eyes, swept over the street as she thought. Perhaps she could actually be friends with the Slytherin? He seemed to be not entirely repulsed by the idea and it would help with her Defence Against the Dark Arts classes if Teodora could see her sharing friendly conversation with one of the Slytherins.

Her eyes slid over something that seemed vaguely familiar a little down the road on Zabini's side. It seemed to register hazily in the back of her mind and she frowned, trying to find it again.

Yes. There it was. Red hair, blue eyes…

Hermione yelped and grabbed Zabini by the arm, dragging him bodily through her balcony door and back into her flat.

"What the hell! Granger!"

"Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh no." She was holding him back and peeking out into the street from her crouched position behind a curtain. "I think he saw me. Oh fuck. I think he saw _you_."

"Granger! What are you talking about!"

She turned to see him sprawled on her rug looking alarmed.

"I'm in my fucking pyjamas, Zabini! Eating breakfast! With _you_!" she shrieked. "He's going to think that you and I are… That we're… Oh fucking fuck it."

"For the love of all that is holy, _what _are you talking about?! Who!?"

"_Ron_!"

"Weasley?"

"YES!"

Zabini began to laugh. Hermione could have hit him.

"What the fuck is so funny!"

He clutched at his sides and fell back on the rug.

"You are what is so funny!" he said between gasps, "Why do you care what he thinks?"

"Because… Because… Just because, ok!"

"Granger. Stop. Look at me." Hermione turned to him, still crouched behind the curtain. "Think about this. The guy broke up with you right?" she nodded, "And now he's just seen you with, might I say, an extremely attractive wizard whom he hates. It's the perfect revenge."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, that's so fucking Slytherin."

"And that's precisely what makes it brilliant."

"Aren't you concerned that people will think we're…" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "Sleeping together?"

"Heavens yes, but there's nothing I can do about it now, is there? And that doesn't stop it being beneficial to you."

"That is… ridiculously insulting." said Hermione with a grin.

Zabini shrugged and stood, dusting off his robes imperiously.

Hermione glanced back out into the street again. "You know what? You're right. Fuck it. I don't care. Let him think whatever he likes." She stood up. "Would you like some more coffee?"

Zabini grinned. "Sure, why not? May as well make it look convincing."

* * *

That evening, Hermione felt light and happy that she'd made a new friend. The two of them had resolutely steered away from the subject of the war and instead talked about their classes and bitched healthily about their classmates. Zabini had revealed, to Hermione's glee, that their fellow _tovarasi,_ Isobel, had developed a habit of draping herself all over either himself, or Malfoy, and consequentially, they both disliked her more than Hermione did but still put up with her for reasons he could not explain. 

After spending two hours at her flat, sharing coffee and talking, Zabini had left. They had not made plans to see each other again, both seeming to understand that it was a pleasant, random morning and nothing more.

At around nine o'clock, Hermione made herself a dinner of rice and curry and sat down with her potions textbook to read a chapter on love potions. She was three pages in before she realised that her heart was beating rapidly and she felt darkness beginning to creep into her vision again. She pushed through the chapter, trying to stay resolutely optimistic, trying to ignore her thudding heart and the sadness that was bleeding through her body, to no avail. So she read the entire book. When it was almost midnight she scrubbed her bathroom top to bottom, the muggle way, hoping to make herself too tired to feel the depression she was falling into.

By two am, she was shaking on her couch, staring down at her Arithmancy textbook, not taking in a single word she read. Her tongue convulsed in her mouth and her limbs were beginning to ache in a way that felt strangely familiar.

Her head was feeding the fire of her sadness, throwing fuel into the blaze. Ron knew where she lived now but he hadn't written to her. He didn't visit her. He didn't care. He didn't love her. How could anyone love her? She was messy and cold and unyielding. She was ugly and uninteresting. She was worthless.

A shiver ran down her spine and her skin tingled unpleasantly. Hermione discarded the book. Her head pounded and her body was burning with tension. She tried relaxing her muscles but they twitched uncontrollably as the aching got worse. She was pouring sweat. Why was it so hot?

She flung open her balcony door and stood in the gale of icy winded that whirled into her flat but it made no difference. Her skin burned.

She lurched back to her couch and collapsed into it, breathing shallowly. She clenched her fists and curled up into a ball, trembling and letting out little keening sobs as the wind scattered her essays around her apartment.

Her stomach cramped and saliva flooded her mouth. She leaned over the side of her couch and vomited as new waves of tremors hit her body.

Hermione felt her soul burn with a far hotter fire than the one that burned her body, like it was splintering, tearing itself apart. She grabbed a pillow, pressed her face into it and screamed.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

CLOUD BLOOD

_"Trying hard to resist sleep's first kiss, every time I have time to think, I think of this."_

Two days later, Hermione dragged herself off her couch at a quarter to nine in the morning, an urgency she couldn't place pushing her to get to school. She had fifteen minutes before her Defence Against the Dark Arts class began and her limbs were twitching with the pain that had burned through them since Saturday night. She had hoped it would ease, but instead it had only gotten worse.

She hadn't been able to spend more than a few moments wondering why the pain was there before the screaming voices in her mind engulfed it. They hadn't stopped to let her sleep or eat, they had howled through her head all through Saturday night as she lay curled on her couch sweating and vomiting, all through Sunday and Sunday night when she had nothing left in her stomach to bring up. They had caused her to hurl the glass of water she had attempted to get for herself at four am on Monday morning against her kitchen wall.

_Betrayer_, they called her, _worthless piece of trash. Disappointment, waste of breath, evil whore. _

They made her relive her worst memories but embellished them, making them so much worse. Ron walked out of the tent leaving her and Harry alone calling her a useless slut. George laughed and taunted her while she begged him not to touch her. Bellatrix tortured her, cackling, and Draco Malfoy slit Harry's throat in the background. They were waking nightmares.

She hadn't eaten or slept, and she had only showered for two minutes on Sunday before the pain of the water hitting her skin, no matter what temperature, became too much. The clothes on her back burned her skin to the point where she had thrown them off and lain naked in the darkness, clad in nothing but Zabini's silver chain, which she refused to take off. The shadows made her feel as if she was surrounded by grotesque monsters that loomed at her terrifyingly but she could not turn on the lights as they seared her eyes.

Nine am. She stumbled to her bedroom and dragged on underwear and a tank top, then her robes, crying out in pain. She couldn't bring herself to wear her usual uniform of jeans and a t-shirt under her robes, the idea of the rough textured denim on her skin made her cringe.

Hermione half walked, half fell down the spiral stairs and out of the storage room, ducking her head as she passed Mr Flourish on the way out. She pulled her hood up over her face as she walked out onto the street with faltering steps. Diagon Alley was crowded with shoppers. She stared down at the cobblestones, not entirely sure how her symptoms were appearing to those around her. She felt as if hands were grabbing her from every angle, pinching her skin, as people brushed past her. She gagged again, glad for once that there was nothing in her stomach. She rushed towards the Leaky Cauldron desperately, thinking all the way that these were her last steps, sure that her body couldn't handle to pain and she would die in the middle of the street, surrounded by anonymous faces.

She reached the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron and turned on the spot, into darkness.

Hermione rematerialised at Hogsmeade station and immediately fell to her knees, retching into the grass. How she hadn't splinched herself, she would never know, though she probably wouldn't have noticed if she had.

She whimpered as she pushed herself to her feet, a light breeze caressed her skin and feeling like the lashing of a whip.

She staggered up to the castle, falling twice and grazing her palms and knees so that blood ran down her legs. After the second fall, she almost couldn't get up. She wanted to lie down in the dirt and die. She wanted to lose her mind, lose it and never find it again. It felt like the relief of oblivion was only a breath away, if she would only give in to it.

She just needed to get to class. A feeble voice that flickered like a candle in the back of her mind pushed her to her feet, crying over the screaming.

_Get to Teodora, get to Ginny, get to Luna, Blaise, Juliet, Susan, Padma. Draco. Anyone._

She could give up when she got there.

Ten past nine. The castle seemed empty, all the students were in class, and Hermione was glad. She didn't want anyone to see her like this.

She tried not to howl as she lifted her legs to climb the stairs up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. At the top, she could see the door shining like a beacon down the hall and she broke into a staggering jog that made her legs throb.

She reached the door and noticed that it lay across from a window, looking out into the grounds.

The screaming in her head rose to a cacophony.

_The window, the window. Go through the window!_

Hermione's legs stumbled towards it. She gave a keening whine as she realised what she was about to do, what was about to happen.

With strength she didn't know she possessed, she cried out, clutching at her head, and wheeled around to hurl herself at the door. She fell through it, landing on her hands and knees in the classroom.

She forced her head to rise and she saw her classmates in their usual circle, all staring at her in open mouthed shock. She distantly heard Susan scream. The faces of her _tovarasi _were pale and distorted as her vision blurred.

Her legs and arms shook violently and collapsed underneath her. She fell forwards, her head cracking on the stone floor.

"Hermione! _Rahat_!" Teodora sounded panicked. She'd never heard her teacher sound panicked.

"What's happened to her?!" cried Juliet.

"_Eu nu a luat-o potione_! _Ea se simte blestemul total_! _Filtrul este plecat_!" the older woman shouted.

"In English, Teodora!" shrieked Ginny.

The older woman was hovering over Hermione, her face lined with fear. "Blaise, Draco! _Vin si ajuta-ma_! She needs to be in my office!"

No one moved, they were too transfixed by Hermione as she twitched and sobbed on the floor. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she almost passed out, but the voices would not allow it.

"NOW!" Teodora bellowed. The two men broke free of their ranks and ran towards Hermione.

Draco's hands closed on her upper arms and he began to haul her to her feet. She let out a scream that tore her throat apart.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

He let go of her immediately and she fell back onto the floor with an anguished cry.

"No, Draco! Blaise! _Trebuie sa va_! It will burn her but I cannot levitate her, she thrashes too much! You must! You Must!" cried Teodora.

Blaise shook his head, and held his hands up. "I can't! It's hurting her! I can't!"

She saw Draco cast a disgusted look at Blaise and move towards her. Hermione screamed as he thrust his arms under her arms and legs and stood. Her back arched but he held on with a vice like grip, one of his arms wrapped around her waist to hold her tighter. He followed Teodora as she flew into her office calling out behind her, "You will all see this! Come!"

The rest of the _tovarasi_ followed behind them. Draco laid Hermione on the floor and moved away quickly as she thrashed wildly to kneel a few feet from her. Ginny, Luna, Susan, Eli, Juliet and Padma had tears coursing down their cheeks, Blaise and Isobel looked sick. Teodora was rummaging through her cabinets.

"What's wrong with her?" demanded Ginny again in a shrill voice but Teodora ignored her.

"What are you doing? She needs to go to St Mungos!" cried Padma.

"No! I can heal her!" shouted their teacher.

Hermione stared at Teodora pleadingly, her eyes rolling back into her head every few seconds. She clawed at her robes.

"Get it off! PLEASE GET IT OFF!" she sobbed. "It _hurts_!"

"Draco! Take off her outer robes!" ordered Teodora, running towards the _cazan _filled with the _Rusine _potion and beginning to add extra ingredients.

Draco moved towards Hermione and his fingers fumbled on the buttons of her robe as she thrashed. "Granger! Stay still for a moment!" he growled.

Hermione fought against the pain and tried to still her limbs but they continued to shake violently. She screamed again as he gave up on the buttons and ripped her robes from her body in one movement. Draco yelped and jumped back as her almost naked body was exposed to him, clad in nothing but underwear and a tank top and covered in scratch marks and cuts. "Fucking hell! What did you do!?"

"Tried to get out of her skin too, when the robes were not enough." Teodora said and rounded on the rest of the class, "_Ce faci?! Nu sta acolo_! Sooth her! All of you! Offer her support!"

Ginny ran forwards and fell to her knees near Hermione's head. "It's ok Hermione! It's alright! Teodora's gonna help! It's ok!"

Hermione stared up at her and sobbed. "I'm sorry Ginny! I'm sorry! Harry! It's my fault!" she screamed again. The _tovarasi _gathered around her, on their knees, calling out words of support.

"It's not! None of it's your fault Hermione!" Luna put her hand out to touch Hermione's hair but she howled and jerked away.

"Don't touch her!" yelled Draco. Luna sobbed.

Teodora appeared at Draco's elbow, a goblet in her hand. "I need you to drink this Hermione; it will make it feel better!"

Hermione gave what looked like a nod and raised her head slightly. Teodora leant forward, putting the goblet to Hermione's lips. She drank only one sip, rolled onto her side, and vomited.

She sobbed and her back arched, her tendons standing out of her neck. "I HATE THIS!"

"You must drink Hermione!" shouted Teodora.

"I can't! They won't let me, Teodora! They won't fucking let me!" cried Hermione. "You don't _understand_!"

"Who?!"

Suddenly, the pain reached its peak and she felt a rising sense of triumph. She'd wanted this. She deserved it. She was being _punished._

Hermione opened her mouth, but she didn't scream. She cackled madly. "I'll _die_ before I take that potion! I _earned _this pain! You won't take it away from me! IT'S MINE!" Hermione could hear the psychosis in her own voice. It wasn't hers. She didn't know who it belonged to but it wasn't her.

Teodora reeled back in shock. She looked around at her students in panic. Their faces reflected the terror in her eyes.

"What are you looking at?! DO SOMETHING!" Draco yelled at Teodora as Hermione continued to laugh hysterically. Teodora looked on at Hermione with horror. Draco stared around at the _tovarasi_, as if waiting for someone to offer some suggestion. When none was made, he growled and pulled out his wand, pointing at it at Hermione.

Teodora looked at him with dawning terror and grabbed at his hand. "No! Draco!"

"If none of you have the stomach to help her, then I will!" he wrenched his arm out of Teodora's grip, pointed his wand back at Hermione and cried, "_Imperio_!"

Hermione felt her limbs rush with a pleasant warmth and she stilled. The triumph she felt simmered under the surface but the voices quieted a little. They weren't shrill anymore, just deadly, threatening whispers that coated the inside of her head like sticky tar. The pain was still there, she was still twitching, her whole body was on fire, but she was separate from it. It was a calm sort of bliss. It wasn't ecstasy or joy, just tranquillity and acceptance.

"_Drink the potion._" said a voice in her head. It was a nice voice, powerful and deep. It resonated in her like thunder, reaching into every corner of her mind. She wanted to please this voice. "_Drink, it will get rid of the pain_." Get rid of the pain? Oh, that sounded like a wonderful idea. She didn't like the pain. Perhaps she should drink the potion.

Hermione felt Ginny and Luna's hands supporting the back of her head as she raised it. That hurt. But it was also nice. Like they were friends. The warmth in her mind grew stronger. Her lips reached the goblet and she drank. She recognised it as the _Rusine _potion but it tasted much stronger. She finished the goblet and her head was lowered back to the floor.

_Get rid of it_! screamed the voices in her head, breaking through the fog, finally. She gagged and leant onto her side to vomit again. The pain shot through her again and she gasped, tears flowing freely down her face.

Draco reeled back with a shout, confusion in his eyes. "How did she throw it off so easily?!"

He pointed his wand at her again. "_Imperio! Legillimens!_"

Hermione felt the flooding warmth again, as well as a presence in her mind and felt it's shock as the voices screamed at it to get out and battled against it.

"_Drink the potion, Granger!_" said his voice in her head, powered by the force of the _imperius _curse and the _Legillimens_.

She lifted her head again, with the help of the supporting hands of her _tovarasi_, and drank. The voices fought against him, urging her to vomit again. She felt Draco's presence place himself between them and her consciousness, acting as a temporary barrier.

"_Let it work._" he crooned soothingly, "_Let it heal you. See? The pain is already going._"

And it was. The burning tide was receding. The voices stopped their screaming and dissipated, scattering like leaves on the wind. Hermione sighed contentedly as the bliss that came with his soothing voice curled around her consciousness totally. It was so _warm_. How was he doing that? He was always so cold and hard, how was he suddenly warmth and softness? Is this what his soul felt like? The quiet in her mind was paradise. She felt Draco's presence fully now, he was still there, waiting. She felt a rush of pure love reach out to his voice, but he recoiled and retreated.

A fog seemed to clear from her eyes as the warmth leaked out of her.

Her _tovarasi _and Teodora were staring down at her, all wearing expressions of panic and deep concern. Malfoy was kneeling on the floor beside her, a hand splayed before him to support his weight. It sounded as if his breathing was laboured and he looked like he might be ill.

Hermione groaned. Her skin stung where she had scratched herself and her limbs ached. Padma moved quickly to sit next to her, her fingers on Hermione's wrists to check her pulse. She moved her wand over Hermione's body, muttering something the rest of them could not hear. She paused for a moment then turned to Teodora.

"She's dehydrated and sleep deprived. She needs potions."

Teodora nodded shakily and stood. She turned to her desk, scribbling something on a piece of parchment. "Eli, you will go to the hospital wing. Take this."

She handed Eli the parchment. He nodded and left the room at a run.

Hermione pushed herself into a sitting position slowly. Her head spun. Teodora knelt by her feet and she locked eyes with the older woman.

"Hermione," Teodora's voice shook with rage, "You did not take the _Rusine_ did you?"

Hermione shook her head.

"_Rahat_! _Fata proasta_!" her fist connected with the floor with a crack that made everyone jump. "Why?! And if you tell me you forgot I will tear you apart myself!"

Hermione sniffed as a few tears escaped her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

"Wait a minute, what is the _Rusine_?" asked Ginny, her eyes darting between Teodora and Hermione.

Teodora raised her eyebrows. "Well? Will you tell them? They have just watched you on the brink of losing your mind, they deserve to know."

Hermione buried her head in her arms and sobbed. Teodora got to her feet. "Once Eli has returned with the potions you need, you will talk to your _tovarasi._ Until then, I must go and speak to Professor McGonagall and inform her that none of you will be attending classes today. None of you will leave this room while I am gone."

Nobody moved for a moment as she strode out of the door. Ginny shifted forward to wrap her arms around her crying friend and Hermione leant gratefully into Ginny's arms. Luna draped Hermione's ruined robe over her shoulders and cast a warming charm. Juliet silently waved her wand to clear away the puddle of sick next to Hermione. Blaise lit the fire and Isobel handed Hermione a conjured glass of water after a nod from Padma.

Hermione's felt Ginny's head shift on her shoulder.

"Draco, are you ok?" she asked.

Hermione's head whipped around to see Malfoy still kneeling nearby. His face was far paler than usual and shined with sweat. The look in his eyes was tortured.

He nodded almost imperceptibly, closing his eyes, "I will be. I just… Need a minute."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Padma moved forward, blocking Malfoy from view.

"Let me heal those cuts, Hermione. Can you lie down?"

Hermione sunk back to the floor as Juliet pushed a pillow under her head. Padma slipped off the tattered robe to expose her body.

"Uh, maybe we should leave." said Blaise.

"You heard Teodora, she said we had to stay here." said Ginny.

"I don't mind." Hermione rasped. Her modesty was the farthest thing from her mind.

Padma began healing the cuts and scratches that littered her skin, leaving little trails of soothing cool where her wand worked. She began at Hermione's feet and moved up her body; spending extra time on Hermione's bloodied knees.

Eli burst through the door then. "Sorry I took so long." he puffed, "Pomfrey put up a bit of a fight."

He handed the vials in his arms to Padma who took off the lid of each and sniffed. "This one first. Then these two. Then this one." Padma handed the vials to Hermione.

She threw them back quickly, wincing at the taste. The aching in her limbs subsided, her head cleared and her hunger pangs dissipated. She sighed. "Thanks. That's better."

Padma crouched down by Hermione's head to heal the injury she had acquired when her head hit the classroom floor. After a moment, Padma's wand stilled. Hermione looked up at her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"This bruise on your temple. I can't shift it." Padma replied, her brow creased with concentration.

Hermione looked away and muttered, "No, I don't think that one will go away anytime soon. It's alright, it doesn't hurt."

Padma shrugged at turned to the boys. "Can you guys turn around? I need to do her chest." Eli and Blaise blushed and walked towards the opposite side of the room, where they stopped and faced the wall. Draco raised a teasing eyebrow at Hermione before hoisting himself to his feet. He swayed dangerously and Isobel rushed forwards to aid him.

"I'm fine." he said through gritted teeth and walked over to join his fellows.

"Ginny, can you lift her shirt?" asked Padma. Ginny obliged and Hermione flinched as the fabric scraped along the cuts and scratches on her breasts. Padma began trailing her wand over Hermione's skin, making her shiver.

"Wow, Hermione," said Luna, "You have really nice boobs."

All the girls looked at the Ravenclaw in open mouthed shock before Hermione burst into peals of laughter. The girls began to giggle.

"She does, doesn't she? Especially now that they're less… Mangled." said Isobel, smiling.

"This is just cruel." they heard Blaise mumble and fell into more giggling.

Teodora walked back into the room then and sighed, relieved, when she saw them all laughing. Hermione avoided the older woman's gaze as she turned over so Padma could do her back.

Teodora crouched down by Hermione's head and placed a hand on her hair. "I am sorry for yelling. I was very scared." she said quietly so that only Hermione could hear. She noticed tears in her teacher's eyes.

"It's ok." she said hoarsely. "I've been there."

Teodora smiled at her, kissed the top of her head and stood up.

Padma pulled Hermione's shirt back on, announcing that she was done. Susan cast a quick _reparo_ on the damaged robes and handed them to Hermione who pulled them on, glad to be able to cover up. The boys turned around as Teodora sat down at her desk.

"Please, all of you sit down. Let us talk."

They crowded onto the floor of Teodora's office, Ginny's arm slung protectively across Hermione's shoulders. Hermione was grateful for the contact. No matter what had passed between them, Ginny was still the closest thing she had to a sister and her love was healing Hermione right then.

"Today, we learn of our own importance to each other. We see the purpose of the _tovarasi_. What would have happened to our _tovaras_, our comrade, if we were not here? Would you have come to school Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head slowly. She remembered the voice that flickered like a candle, telling her to get to this class, to find her _tovarasi_. If it hadn't been for that, she knew she would have stayed at home to bear the pain alone.

"If she had not come, a week from now you would have been reading about the tragic war hero who lost her mind and was committed to St Mungos." Teodora regarded them seriously, "But instead she came to us. Not the hospital wing or the headmistress, she came to us. Because as a group we draw her power. No," she shook her head at Blaise's look of dawning comprehension, "I have cast no spell on you. You built this with your forgiveness and your trust."

Hermione looked dumbfounded.

"Oh yes, Hermione," said Teodora, nodding, "Magic is far more intricate and complicated than you could possibly imagine. If this is what you built in a week, imagine what we could do with a year?"

The older woman took a deep breath and massaged her temples tiredly. "I have spoken with the Headmistress and for the rest of today; you will stay here in this classroom with your injured _tovarasi_. Hermione is not the only one who needs healing." at this she looked at Draco who was still looking grey around the edges. "You will eat lunch and dinner here and you will build this trust and forgiveness. You will build the bond.

"I will not stay with you as I have classes to teach. But before I go I will tell you a story.

"A week ago, after the start of term feast, I was summoned to the Headmistress' office on urgent business."

Hermione's heart lurched. She knew where this was going.

"Of course, I made my way to her directly and when I got there I found a girl. A girl who was very good at seeming happy when she wasn't. The headmistress told me this girl was injured by a curse. She had a bruise on her face. She had tried to hide it with muggle creams but when I saw this bruise, I knew. I knew that this girl was in terrible pain, so much pain that she wanted to cause herself more pain as punishment. I said nothing to the headmistress. I did not want this girl to be exposed to ridicule. So I took her away to my office where I brewed a potion to ease her suffering. And we spoke. She had achieved so much for one so young. But she was killing herself with worry and fear and guilt and shame. However, she talked with me openly and I felt hope."

She smiled warmly at Hermione.

"I felt hope. And I asked her to take this potion every night for two weeks to heal the damage she had done. You see, this girl cast a curse on _herself_. I watched as she felt the effects of the potion and her suffering seemed to be lessened. She was still defiant and stubborn," at this Teodora laughed fondly, "but the buzz in her aura was eased. She seemed calm and happy. Two nights ago she stopped taking that potion because… She _forgot_. And here, today, you saw the results of her negligence."

Hermione ducked her head as her _tovarasi's _eyes turned to her.

"She will have to take the potion for much longer now. Maybe a month, maybe more. And every weekend, one of you will bring her the potion to her house. We cannot cure her of forgetfulness but we can help." Teodora cast her eyes about the group, "Will you all agree to do this?"

Each member nodded, even Malfoy.

Blaise spoke up from the corner, "What curse to did you cast on yourself, Hermione?"

She looked up and locked eyes with him. Could she say it out loud, finally? Could she burden them with that knowledge?

She opened her mouth, waiting for the words to tumble out as they had in Teodora's office a week ago. But they didn't and she realised she'd have to do it herself.

Hermione took a breath. "The _cruciatus _curse." she said.

Ginny's hand jumped to her mouth. Susan whispered, "oh my god." and Malfoy was staring at her with a hard, critical look. Blaise put his face in his hands, Isobel shook her head disbelievingly and Luna sniffed as tears welled in her eyes. Juliet and Eli both closed their eyes in dismay.

"What did it do?" asked Malfoy coldly, looking to Teodora.

"To cast it on oneself is… Different from when it is cast by another. But we must first understand the how the curse works, before we can understand it's effects." she stood and began pacing behind her desk, "In our minds, we have many natural barriers and filters the protect us from physical and mental pain. Some of them we are born with and some we create in defence over the course of our lives. The _cruciatus _curse removes these barriers and sets our nerves, our minds and our souls aflame. There is not one inch of our bodies, inside and out, that is not affected. No corner of our minds is safe from it once the filter is removed. But this is temporary when it is cast by another. The filter is removed for only as long as the curse lasts and comes back when it ceases.

"When Hermione cast it on herself, it had a different effect. At first there was nothing, no pain and no _suflet de foc_. No soul fire. Then slowly, a bruise materialises on the body where the curse was cast, ugly and black and infected. You see it on her temple now." Padma glanced at Hermione in understanding. "We call this Afarit's Mark. But it does not hurt either, at first. After a day, the bruise begins to ache. This is the curse as it starts to work. Because it is slowly disintegrating the filter. It is a long and painful way to lose your mind.

"The _Rusine_ creates a temporary filter while it heals the natural one. When Hermione forgot to take the potion, that filter broke down and went away. What you saw today was a ceaseless _cruciatus_ curse. That is what she felt."

Hermione watched as Malfoy paled at this.

Teodora fell silent and the _tovarasi_ all seemed to be lost in thought. Teodora glanced at the clock on the wall. "I must go. I have a third year class."

They all stood silently, a sombre mood seemed to hang over the group. Hermione followed her classmates and Teodora out into the classroom. Their teacher bade them goodbye, telling them that she would come by every once in a little while to check on them and left.

Once the door closed behind her, the _tovarasi _wordlessly formed their usual circle without conscious thought. They stood silently, staring around at each other.

Hermione was tired. The pain she had been experiencing an hour ago felt like a horrible nightmare she hadn't quite woken up from yet.

Malfoy was slowly regaining his lost colour and she noticed him looking at her across the circle, frowning. She stared back at him. She knew she should say thank you. He was the only one out of the group who was cold and hard enough to do what needed to be done to save her mind. But could she thank him for being cold and hard? No. Could she thank him for saving her sanity? Possibly. But not right then. She felt as if there were no words left in her mouth, like she wanted nothing more than to never talk again as long as she lived.

She wondered why he was staring at her so hard. Was he resentful that she wasn't thanking him? She remembered his words from the beginning of the previous week. _What do you want, Granger? A hug?_ She could say the same to him now. It was about time he saved someone's life.

Juliet suddenly stepped forward, interrupting Hermione's thoughts. "I'd like to make an official motion." they all chuckled at her use of language, "In light of what's just happened, I think we should make a wizard's oath right here and now that what we've learnt about each other in the last week, will never be repeated to anyone outside the _tovarasi_. Nor will anything we learn in the future." her eyes swept around the circle as everyone remained silent, "How do these things work again? Doesn't someone need to second my motion?"

"Actually you need four. Officially that is. And are we considering Teodora as part of the _tovarasi_?" said Eli.

They all nodded after a moment of thought and Ginny stepped forward. "Well I'll second it."

"I'll third it." said Padma.

"I'll fourth it." said Malfoy finally looking away from Hermione.

"Good. Ok well, wands out!" said Juliet. Hermione pulled her wand from the pocket of her robes and held it aloft in front of her.

"I swear that I will never share either the information I have already learned, nor the information I will learn about my fellow _tovarasi _with another soul outside the _tovarasi_, lest death take me or I am stripped of my magic." said Juliet.

Hermione repeated Juliet's words along with the rest of the group. Her wand tip glowed blue and a warmth spread through her hand as the oath was sealed.

Not one of them understood what they had just done and Hermione felt the weight of it press down on her shoulders. Teodora had said in their first lesson that they were _tovarasi_, but that hadn't been true then, not really. They hadn't been _tovarasi _until that moment. Until the moment that had made a wizard's oath to remain loyal to each other. Hermione knew the words were different but the underlying message was the same, they'd promised loyalty and they'd promised to die for it.

Hermione sighed and sank to the floor. She felt Ginny's body move to press against her and she lowered her head into the other girl's lap, stretching her legs out. Her view was so shallow; her eyelids had morphed into iron gates that threatened to crash down over her eyes.

"It's alright, Hermione," she heard Ginny whisper, "You can sleep. We're here."

A/N I feel the need at this point to explain some things and provide some translations seeing as Teodora was speaking so much Romanian in this chapter.

Afarit's Mark: Afarit is a type of malevolent spirit. They are not minor disruptive spirits but are exceptionally dangerous, powerful, smart and malicious. They don't like people. They possess powers of bilocation and can render themselves invisible if they choose. Their appearance is generally whatever they want it to be but they are generally described as huge and terrifying. Should they possess someone (which they are known to do) that person will show signs of psychosis. I suggest you look them up if you'd like to know more. They're pretty cool in a scary way haha.

Translations (including words used in earlier chapters):

"…the _denatura _curse is... _boala_? Sick. It is sickness…"

_Boala_ – sickness, _denatura _– distorted

_Cazan_ – boiler/cauldron

"I am _corcitura._"

_Corcitura_ - halfblood

"… you are _nascut din incuiati_? Your parents are muggles?..."

_Nascut din incuiati_ – born of muggles (yes there is actually a Romanian word for muggle! So cool.)

_Rahat_ – shit

"Blaise, Draco! _Vin si ajuta-ma_! She needs to be in my office!"

_Vin si ajuta-ma_ – come and help me

"No, Draco! Blaise! _Trebuie sa va_!"

_Trebuie sa va_ – you must

_"Ce faci?! Nu sta acolo_! Sooth her! All of you! Offer her support!"

_Ce faci? Nu sta acolo_ – what are you doing? don't just stand there

_"Fata proasta_!" her fist connected with the floor with a crack that made everyone jump.

_Fata proasta_ – stupid girl

"_Eu nu a luat-o potione_! _Ea se simte blestemul total_! _Filtrul este plecat_!" the older woman shouted. -

She did not take her potion! She feels the curse totally! The filter is gone!


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

COMING UP

_"I, on my darkened threshold, am pawing through my pockets."_

Hermione woke to soft voices singing through her head, drawing her from her dreams. The familiar smell of Teodora's classroom flooded through her comfortingly as she inhaled. She lay with her eyes closed, holding onto the blissful obliviousness of sleep for as long as she could before her mind naturally joined with reality and she was forced to remember her horrible weekend.

She was vaguely aware of lying on the floor on some sort of pallet, her head was no longer on a Ginny's lap, but on a pillow. Her _tovarasi _were somewhere behind her, talking in low, quiet voices. It soothed her. She couldn't make out what they were saying but their conversation didn't sound tense, it sounded familiar. The noise of the rest of the castle didn't seem to reach the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, the air hung still and temperate, blanketed by silence aside from the hushed voices of her classmates.

She opened her eyes and there he was. Malfoy. Asleep. Beside her.

At first, she wanted to get up and put as much distance between them as possible but something stopped her. She was too tired for her grudge just then. The room was too quiet for her hatred. He wasn't doing her any harm by sleeping next to her; they weren't touching at all, a foot of space lay between them. He even had his own pallet. But they were still facing each other, curled slightly on their sides, and that felt intimate. His breath was on her face while she slept and hers was on his.

Her eyes fluttered closed a few times, as if she was still lulling in and out of consciousness, but she didn't want to go back to sleep. She wanted to watch Malfoy sleep. Something about him was moving something in her, shifting it ever so slightly. It was the most human she'd ever seen him, and that wasn't his fault. She'd just refused to see it before then. She still disliked him, but right then, she saw him for what he was. A person, who slept and ate and laughed and had skin and hair. He had a scent and a scar on his right hand that she could see as it curled under his chin. His was a face that was so familiar to her, so commonplace, because she'd seen at it almost every day for seven years. But she'd never really looked, properly, objectively, unemotionally. She'd looked at him and seen Malfoy, the character of him, never just a human face.

He'd never been human before. When had that happened? He had been a creature in his own right. Someone outside of her compassion, outside of her ethics. None of the laws of her morality applied to him. She offered him even less empathy and forgiveness than she offered herself, and that wasn't very much at all.

She wondered, sleepily, if perhaps she should apply them to him. Then would he look different? What would it make him? Not a heartless monster who tortured people and watched as people were tortured, but a human being who felt his soul fray at the edges every time he lifted his wand on another person, a human being consumed with hatred and sadness and incomprehensible, catastrophic fear as he watched others being hurt.

Hermione liked to think that once upon a time, she had been able to see the best in people, to always give them the benefit of the doubt. Unfortunately Dumbledore had robbed her of that. But maybe she could find it again if she looked…

Malfoy's eyelids flickered and, slowly, his eyes opened to find her staring at him. She didn't balk at his gaze, but looked into his eyes, unabashedly. He said nothing and did not move. She was grateful for this. She was busy applying her morals to him. She realised it was easy once she'd actually tried. She wasn't extending her forgiveness to him, not yet, but she could empathise a little. She would never make the sorts of choices he'd made, she'd have let Voldemort kill her before she took his mark. But then, she wasn't Malfoy and she didn't really know what being him felt like. Would she have sworn her allegiance to Voldemort if he would spare the lives of her parents? Yes, probably. And there was the crux. Would she torture people, kill people, force them to do things against their will to protect Harry or Ron or Ginny? She probably would. And that's just what he'd done. Wasn't it?

Unless of course, he was just a heartless monster who enjoyed inflicting torture on those he considered lesser beings. There was that.

But which one was it? She could probably give a passionate argument for both sides. He'd made that pretty speech at the start of term and it _had _sounded genuine, but it had stood against seven years of bullying and abuse. He had ordered her not to call herself a mudblood, but he had also been sarcastic and condescending with her ever since. Zabini had said that he thought Malfoy had changed, but then, when had they ever been really close? Teodora trusted him, but Hermione didn't. Tricky. Very tricky.

"Why were you staring at me before?" Hermione whispered after a few moments, because silently lying together and staring into each other's eyes was beginning to feel strange.

"Why are you staring at me now?" he whispered back. Touché.

"I'll answer if you do."

He nodded slightly. "Alright. You first."

"I've just realised you're a person." she breathed.

"Oh, well spotted." the words were sarcastic but his face was free of that hard meanness she was used to seeing in him when he looked at her.

Hermione actively chose not to be offended, something that she probably should have been doing for seven years. Maybe this was him, sarcastic and deprecating. Maybe this was his sense of humour, and if it was, it was very close to hers. She could laugh at his sardonic comments, or she could be offended by them. Right then, she decided to do neither and simply said, "Your go."

He frowned at her, the same look that he had worn when they had stood in the circle with the_ tovarasi_. "You have to mean them. Unforgivables."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "Oh, well spotted."

"I mean, they don't work if you don't mean them. You cast the _cruciatus _curse on yourself and it worked. You meant it." he whispered.

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "I don't understand."

"That's… pain. I don't know. I guess I kind of just realised you're a person too."

They stared at each other in silence, sizing each other up. Yes. It felt like things were changing. Hermione didn't know if she liked it.

"We're not friends." said Hermione abruptly.

Malfoy shook his head, as if this was obvious.

"But I guess I should thank you for doing what you did."

"Yeah, I think you probably should."

There it was again. Humour or childish entitlement? Which was it?

Hermione chose to ignore it again. "I'm not quite there though. Just wanted to let you know that gratitude is manifesting. Don't consider yourself thanked just yet."

Malfoy smiled and laughed quietly. "Fair enough." he whispered.

Hermione rolled onto her back and sat up. The conversation needed to end. She was in way over her head. She did not know even a little how to deal with Malfoy and all the possible manifestations of his personality.

Sure enough, the rest of the group was seated in a ramshackle circle at the other end of the room. As she approached, their faces were a mix of comforting smiles, concerned frowns and relief. She slumped on the floor between Ginny and Isobel with a sigh. Ginny took her hand and held it, wordlessly.

After a moment, Malfoy joined them.

"Are you alright?" Padma asked him immediately.

He shrugged and nodded.

"I'm sorry I didn't examine you before, I just got caught up in the…" she stopped, as if searching for a word.

"Drama?" Hermione offered with a smile. The group laughed.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Isobel.

"Casting Unforgivables can be… Damaging. And on top of that he used the _Legillimens _spell. I don't know what he saw in Hermione's mind, but whatever it was, put up quite a fight. Enough of one to sap all his energy anyway. I just want to check that there's no further damage."

Hermione blanched. What _had_ he seen in her mind? Did he now know all her secrets? Her deepest desires, her fears, her pain? She'd forgotten that he'd used _Legillimens_. But he'd been in her head alright, she remembered the feeling all too well now. His presence filtering into every corner of her psyche, soothing every burning synapse so tenderly, so kindly. It was enough to make her feel sick. But what must he feel? He'd been the one touching her like that, he'd been the one putting in the action. Did she feel violated? Strangely, no. Did feel confused? Oh, yes.

"Could you lie down please?" asked Padma, pushing a pillow towards Malfoy.

"What? No, Padma, I'm fine." he waved a dismissive hand at his would-be healer.

Padma smiled indulgently. "Yes, I'm sure you are, but you weren't an hour ago. Lie down please." she said bossily.

Malfoy lay down on his back, looking disgruntled. Padma hovered over him, her eyes closed, as her lips moved soundlessly. Her wand glowed with a iridescent blue light that Hermione could only see out of the corner of her eye.

"You ok?" asked Ginny quietly so only Hermione could hear.

"Yeah, I needed that sleep. But can you explain to me why I woke up next to Malfoy?"

Ginny shrugged, "He fell asleep not long after you, he was pretty beat after what he did... We were talking and didn't want to wake you guys. Not that we could have if we tried." she grinned, "You were both out cold, didn't even move when we levitated you onto the pallets."

"Has Teodora come by?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah she came and had lunch with us. Talked to Padma a bit about what to look for when she gave Draco the look over… Seemed to find you and Draco quite adorable actually." Ginny grinned cheekily.

Hermione batted her arm playfully. "Shut up! It's not like it was a consensual sleeping arrangement!"

Padma gave Malfoy the all clear and he sat up, stretching. "I hope dinner gets here soon. I'm starving."

"How exactly would you function without House Elves, Malfoy?" asked Hermione at an attempt at humour. She realised too late that it actually sounded for harsher than she meant it.

He rolled his eyes. "Get off your high horse Granger, if we were allowed to leave the room, I'd go down to the kitchens myself."

Hermione's bristled and her face burned, the little speech she'd given to herself earlier, completely gone from her mind. All she could think of was how he'd so casually put her down in front of the entire group. "Oh naturally. You'd have to get used to that now that there's no more care packages from mummy."

She regretted it as soon as she'd said it. Her statement was met by gasps and looks of shock from the rest of the group. Malfoy stared at her with open hatred.

"Hermione! What's wrong with you?" Ginny said in a hushed voice.

What _was_ wrong with her? Where had that even come from? After all her cool rationality minutes ago, she'd somehow shoved him straight back into the non-morality category in her mind.

"That was a comment worthy of the Dark Lord." said Isobel nastily.

Hermione dipped her head, far more than embarrassed. Humiliated, mortified and ashamed were a little closer to accurate. She knew she should say sorry. But the words would not come.

"No Granger, there are no more care packages. Thanks to you, my mother is serving a five year sentence in Azkaban." he shook his head wearily and stood up. "Well, this has been lovely, but I'm going back to my dormitory."

Hermione balked and stood too, as he walked towards the door. "Wait. What do you mean thanks to me?" she asked, cutting across the protests from her classmates.

He rounded on her, his face showing cold fury, "What? Didn't Potter tell you? She saved his life! She lied to the Dark Lord! _No one_ lies to the Dark Lord and lives! But she did! She was going to get a pardon, just for that. Because her actions changed the course of the war, didn't they? Oh, my father was always destined for Azkaban, yes, but my _mother_ was going to be set free! Then, because of an anonymous testimony given at her trial, she was charged and found guilty of being an accomplice to torture. _Your_ torture!"

"I didn't…" Hermione stuttered. Did he think _she'd_ provided the anonymous testimony? Because she hadn't, she hadn't even thought of it. She'd been nowhere near the Malfoy family trials. She'd been too busy pining over Ron and feeling sorry for herself.

Malfoy continued to rage. "No of _course_ you didn't! You very clearly don't realise it but you built this world, Granger! You and Potter and Weasley! Yes, the Dark Lord tore apart families but so did you! And you think you're so above offering those left behind _sympathy_. So above acknowledging the consequences! All you can do is dole out judgment like sweets!" his fist thudded on his chest. "I won't see my own mother for _five fucking years_!" he threw his hands in the air and laughed harshly, "You know what? Teodora wants honesty, well her it is. Here is the deepest secret nobody knows, here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud. I don't hate _muggleborns_, Granger, oh no. I hate _you_."

Hermione stood in his gaze like a deer in headlights. She couldn't accurately describe what she felt for Malfoy in that moment, but it wasn't hatred. It was something closer to remorse, something closer to sympathy. Something closer to guilt.

"I'm sorry." she said quietly, wishing she could offer more than just the word.

He laughed cruelly, "You're _sorry_? Now?! Be sorry before you judge people! And then don't do it! Saying sorry isn't just a spell you can cast on someone to make them forgive you! I will _always_ hate you, Granger, and there is _nothing_ you can _say_ that will change that!"

With that, he turned and strode out of the classroom. The crack of the door slamming behind him echoed harshly through the room.

Hermione felt the gazes of her _tovarasi _on her back. Her eyes glazed with tears. She had never been so ashamed. And Malfoy, of all people, was the one who'd shamed her. She couldn't bring herself to turn around and face the group. She couldn't bear to see the truth of what Malfoy had said in their eyes.

She needed to go home. Needed to be away from her classmate's judgment. She walked towards the classroom door and stepped through it, taking care to close it calmly behind her.

Hermione began to walk down the corridor, sniffling uncontrollably, intent on reaching the Hogwarts gates where she could apparate home and be away from everything she'd left behind in that room.

Her steps faltered as Teodora rounded the corner in front of her.

"Hermione? What –"

"I don't have to change who I am for a stupid class!" she sobbed and clapped her hands over her mouth. Teodora looked like Hermione had hit her.

"What has happened, Hermione?" she asked, shocked.

She held out her arms as if to comfort or placate her student, but Hermione just shook her head vigorously, her hands still clamped over her mouth and ran past Teodora.

She did not stop until she had passed the wards surrounding Hogwarts. With a whimper, she apparated to Diagon Alley.

Embarrassment followed her all that afternoon. It tugged on her sleeves every time she stopped a moment to comprehend it. Her faced burned red every time she thought about her words, to Teodora _and _Malfoy. How could she have been so thoroughly childish? It was a side of her she had not been confronted with for a very long time. Not since she was, well, a child.

Hermione decided the best way to deal with it was to pretend it never happened. It was future Hermione's problem. She occupied herself by doing her washing, reading her mail and cleaning up the sick she'd left beside her couch that morning. She paused every now and then to groan and put a hand to her forehead as her words ran through her head again.

At seven o'clock she was startled by a knock at her door. She prayed that it was not Teodora or one of her classmates, even though she knew that Blaise and Ginny were the only two who knew where she lived. She opened it to find her landlord standing on the landing.

"Sorry to interrupt your evening Miss Granger but a woman dropped this off for you. Said she was one your professors."

He handed Hermione a vial containing a bright blue potion and she wanted to go to the nearest wall and smash her head against it repeatedly.

Instead she plastered a smile on her face and stood aside, gesturing for Mr Flourish to enter.

"Would you like to stay for a cup of tea, sir?"

He smiled warmly and stepped over the threshold. "I can never say no to a cuppa!"

She went to her kitchen and fixed them both tea, tucking a tin of biscuits under her arm as an afterthought. She returned to the lounge room to find him perusing her bookshelf.

"Here you are, Mr Flourish." she set the tea and biscuits down on her coffee table.

"Enough of that Mr Flourish business, call me Graham." he joined her on her couch and lifted his tea to drink. "You've got quite a collection there!"

"Yeah!" she said, nodding distractedly.

"When you start work, you can make good use of the staff discount and fill up those lower shelves, eh?" he said, smiling.

Hermione shook herself. If she was going to entertain her guest, she'd have to actually speak at some point. She turned to him properly and smiled again.

"That reminds me, when did you want me to start?" she asked.

"How does next weekend sound?"

"Oh, that sounds perfect." Hermione grinned, she _was_ looking forward to working in the bookshop. She couldn't imagine any bad feeling ever reaching her in such an environment. She popped off the lid of the tin of biscuits and offered it to her landlord who took one and munched on it appreciatively. They drank their tea in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Hermione was struck with a thought.

"Graham, there was something I was meaning to ask you."

"Mmf?" he grunted through a mouthful of biscuit.

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea here, because a lot of the other people I've asked have had a rather negative reaction…" she laughed nervously, "When I moved in, you told me this flat fell on a Dividing Line. I wanted to research it a little, just out of curiosity, but I can't find any reference to them in any book in the Hogwarts library. I was wondering if you knew anything, or could point me in the right direction of some literature on the subject?"

Graham laughed. "Well I can understand people not responding well when you asked them, most are suspicious, like I said. Think it's dark magic, see? But when you've worked with books as long as I have, you learn things. I'd be happy to tell you what I know, though it's not much. Like you said, texts on the Dividing Line are fearful scarce."

Hermione's heart fluttered excitedly, as it did when she finally felt like she was getting to the bottom of a mystery.

Graham stared at the ceiling for a moment, as if ordering his thoughts. "Now, I wouldn't call them harmless by no means. In the wrong hands, the information can be dangerous. But I know you well enough and I don't think you'd put the knowledge to bad use.

"They say that the Dividing Line enhances a wizards power, makes him stronger, makes his magic more accurate, see? But it's more than that. There are many spells and potions that can only be used and brewed on the Line. Lot's of stuff to do with the wizards perception of the world. It changes the mind, they say, flips it on its axis.

"Now in terms of books on the subject, _I_ don't sell any. But there are some places you can find them. Not very reputable establishments mind you but… You'll find them there."

Hermione had a feeling Graham was trying to tell her something and she knew exactly what he meant. Knockturn Alley.

Hermione skipped out on school the following two days, something she had never done once in her entire educational career. But the embarrassment she felt when she thought of what she'd said to Teodora and what she'd said to Malfoy kept her away. And then, the embarrassment she felt at being too much of a coward to face them, and the rest of her _tovarasi_, solidified her desire to stay away from the castle. She had no idea how to deal with the situation aside from ditching her pride altogether and apologising, which she found scarier than anything. Her pride felt like the only piece of her that she had left to hold onto.

On Tuesday, Graham delivered another dose of her _Rusine _potion saying that the 'pretty Weasley girl' had delivered it. She felt both saddened and grateful that Ginny hadn't tried to come up to her flat to see her.

Again, he stayed for an hour or so to have tea with her and Hermione was appreciative of the conversation. She found the time spent with her landlord largely educational and enjoyable. He was forever telling her to read certain books and researched certain topics, but the only one that she was interested in were the Dividing Lines. She soon found, after more questioning, that the well of information he provided on the subject was dried up.

It was this, and the desire to stop herself sitting in her flat with her face in her hands groaning, that made her decide to venture down Knockturn Alley in search of a book that might help her. So, on Wednesday afternoon, she donned a heavy black cloak with a large hood and stepped out into Diagon Alley. As she walked down the busy street, she pulled the hood up to hide her face. She didn't want anyone to see her venturing into Diagon Alley's seedier counterpart.

Hermione came to the intersection between the two streets and slipped around the corner, into the darkness that hung over Knockturn Alley like a blanket. The air was stuffy and smelt of perfume, tobacco and firewhisky. The difference between the bright, airy sunlight of Diagon and this dank, shadowy place was remarkable. She almost turned back, feeling instantly claustrophobic, but she reminded herself of the information that lay in wait in front of her and pushed on. She was surprised by how crowded it was, wizards pressed in on her from all sides and whorish women stood in doorways leering at the passersby. One grabbed Hermione's wrist as she passed.

"Interested in shopping round the corner, darling?" the woman crooned.

She was just a little taller than Hermione with black hair and sultry, slightly slanted eyes. Hermione shook her head and laughed nervously, trying to dislodge her arm from the woman's grip but she seemed disinclined to let go before Hermione heard her pitch. Someone brushed past Hermione roughly and her hood fell back, exposing her face. The woman gasped and a look of glee crossed her features.

"Oh, I know you! _You're_ Hermione Granger!" she smiled beatifically, "I bet that pretty boyfriend of yours can't eat you like I can. What do you say?"

Hermione cringed at the woman's crude language but decided to make the best of the situation. "What's your name?"

"Desdemona." said the woman, her grin widening.

"Well, Desdemona, if I ever decide to… 'shop around the corner', I swear I will come straight to you, but right now, I really need to find a bookshop. Can you point me in the right direction? Please?"

The woman opened her mouth to answer but before she could, a hand closed around Hermione's upper arm and yanked her away. Whoever it was appeared to be much stronger than Hermione, as her struggles did nothing. She was dragged into a dark alcove off the street and pressed up against a wall. Her stomach churned with fear. Her attacker wore a hooded cloak not unlike her own and towered over her menacingly.

"What in the _fuck_ are you doing here, Granger?!" a voice hissed from under the hood.

"_Malfoy?!_" she gasped.

"Yes! What are you doing here?! Do you have a death wish?!" he pushed his hood back slightly so she could see his face. He looked livid.

"No, I…" she stuttered.

"After everything we did for you the other day, are you trying to get yourself _killed_? What is _wrong_ with you?!"

He didn't give Hermione an opportunity to answer. He yanked her hood back up over her face and pushed her out of the alcove, turning left to go back towards Diagon Alley.

"Wait! Malfoy! What are you doing?" she tried to stop but he grabbed a hold of her wrist and pulled her behind him.

"Saving your life, _again_!" he hissed. "Now for the love of god, be quiet!"

"I thought you hated me!" she ground out as he continued to pull her through the crowded street.

"Doesn't mean I want find your mangled corpse rotting in the gutter!"

"Wait! Malfoy! Let go of me!"

Hermione dug her heels in and twisted her wrist free of his grip. He was forced to stop as she rubbed at the sore skin. He reeled around to face her, looking furious.

"Granger." he said, leaning very close so she could hear him over the noise of the crowd. "When your bespectacled friend killed the Dark Lord, his followers and sympathisers were left with nowhere to go, no corner of the world where their way of life would be accepted. No corner except this one. You fought beside Potter, they know that, and I can guarantee you, ninety nine percent of the people in this street would love to see your head on a pike."

"What are you? The one percent?" asked Hermione sardonically.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and made to continue dragging her but she yanked her arm out of his grip again.

"I am _not _leaving until I find a bookshop. You can accept that or not. I don't care." she crossed her arms defiantly.

"Are you really going to let your obsessive need for knowing everything get you killed?!"

"Yes." Hermione deadpanned.

Malfoy glared at her. "What book do you need?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I'm not entirely sure yet. Which is why I am going to a bookshop."

Malfoy looked at her disbelievingly. "I should just let them kill you."

"I've been trying to do some research."

He rolled his eyes. "Shocker."

"And I can't find anything in Flourish and Blotts or the Hogwarts library. I heard from… an acquaintance… that I might find a book on it down here."

Malfoy sighed resignedly. "And what exactly are you researching?"

"Dividing Lines."

He blinked. "I'm sorry I may have misheard you there Granger, did you say Dividing Lines?"

Hermione nodded.

"Trying to supplant the Dark Lord are we?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. "I'm just _curious_, ok?"

"Naturally. Look, the manor's library has a book that'll help with your mission for world domination. But I will only bring it to you if you allow me to escort you out of this death trap and promise never to come down here again, alright?"

Hermione nodded fervently. "Alright, I promise."

Malfoy placed a hand on the small of her back and steered her out of Knockturn Alley.

She pushed her hood off her face, blinking in the sunlight, as he did the same. In Knockturn Alley, a hood might be commonplace, but in Diagon Alley it was treated as suspicious. "Why aren't you in school by the way?" she asked.

"Avoiding you, funnily enough." he growled.

He walked with her in silence towards the Leaky Cauldron. He looked confused when she stopped at Flourish and Blotts.

"What are you doing?"

"Going home." she said.

Malfoy gave her a look that made her feel like an idiot. "You can't apparate out of Diagon Alley."

"I know that, Malfoy, I _live _in Diagon Alley." she tried to imitate his look, getting the distinct felling that she was failing miserably.

He looked confused. "What? I thought you lived with Weasley?"

"No. I live up there." she pointed to the balcony over Flourish and Blotts.

She wasn't going to invite him up, though the thought crossed her mind for a moment. He was staring up at her flat, frowning, and she wondered if he expected her to. The words were almost on the tip of her tongue when his head snapped back to look at her.

"Fair enough. Well I'll see you tomorrow." he began to walk away but turned back after a few steps, "Oh and Granger?"

"Yes?" she said, her hand on the door to the shop.

"Fuck you."

She stared at him in shock before he turned on his heeled and strode away. She watched his retreating back for a moment, then laughed as she walked into Flourish and Blotts. She decided there and then, that for every snarky, sardonic thing Malfoy said to her in the future, he would receive a laugh in return.

* * *

A/N Just a little footnote, Draco's line of "_here is the deepest secret no one knows, here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud_" is from a poem by E. E. Cummings called I Carry Your Heart With Me. Please go and read it!

Also, collectively, I'd like to thank all of my reviewers for posting such amazingly supportive and loving about the last chapter. You all said you teared up reading it? Well I cried when I read your reviews! Thank you all so very much. Sending love and light to you all!


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

MANHOLE

_"I look up to see who's different, the latest me or the latest you."_

The next day, Hermione decided to swallow her pride and go to school. It was so spectacularly out of character for her to skip classes that she could no longer bear it. After two days, she had not only embarrassment hanging over her head but also something akin to barely controllable panic about missing so many classes. Fortunately, Thursday was the only day of the week that she did not have Defence Against the Dark Arts so she was not forced to endure facing Malfoy or her _tovarasi_ head on, and at lunch, she sat down at the Gryffindor table to eat alone. The rest of her _tovarasi_ ate together at the Ravenclaw table and seemed to be giving her a wide berth, only flashing her quick, uncomfortable smiles and muttering hurried greetings when she passed them in class or in the corridors over the course of the day.

Hermione strongly believed this was exactly what she deserved. She was a wise up to her own flaws, she knew she could be narrow minded and cynical, that she was a know it all and sometimes snobbish about her own intelligence, but she had never thought herself cowardly or childish. Recently, she had been demonstrating _those_ flaws in abundance.

She was still hurt by their reticence though. She thought at least Luna would talk to her but she had dropped off the _Rusine_ potion to Graham the night before without attempting to come up, just like Ginny. And she was as cold as the rest of the group that day at school.

Early that evening, after dinner, Hermione went to Teodora's office for the _Rusine_ potion, determined to apologise for her outburst and smooth things over with her teacher. She didn't know where to begin fixing the damage she'd caused but an apology seemed a good place to start.

"Come." she heard Teodora call through the door after Hermione knocked. She pushed the door open and entered.

The older woman looked up and regarded Hermione seriously. "I'm glad you came, Hermione."

Hermione had barely stepped through the door before the words tumbled out of her mouth ungracefully, "I'm really sorry about what I said the other day. I was angry and… Oh, I've been such a coward! I should have come to school and I should have apologised sooner. I'm sorry." she said, without drawing breath.

Teodora nodded and gestured for Hermione to sit.

"It is no matter. Well, it _is_ matter but I forgive you. Would you like to talk about what made you angry with me?" asked Teodora.

Hermione shook her head fervently, "I wasn't angry with you. I was angry with…"

"Draco." her teacher said this with weary compliance and Hermione got the impression that Teodora was probably sick to death of hearing about their rivalry.

"Well not even him, really. I mean, he said some pretty awful things but he was right mostly and totally justified to be honest. No, I was angry with me." Hermione admitted.

Teodora raised her eyebrows, "With you? Why?"

Hermione nodded. "What I said to him was… appalling."

"Yes. Your _tovarasi_ told me what was said."

Hermione ducked her head, "I don't think they're my _tovarasi_ anymore…"

Teodora gave her a sympathetic look. "I do not think that is true, Hermione."

"After the way I acted? I wouldn't want to be friends with me either." she ran an anxious hand through her hair, revisiting the shame she'd felt days ago.

"I don't think they feel like you are no longer a friend, Hermione. I think they were hurt and shocked by your words." Teodora handed Hermione a goblet of the _Rusine _potion as she spoke, which Hermione drank.

She nodded understandingly. What else could she say? It was just another thing she'd broken, that she'd now have to fix. Hermione wasn't used to being the bad guy, it didn't suit her. She was so used to being right all the time, always the one with the moral high ground, that her situation felt almost dreamlike in its ludicrousness. She felt for a moment that she had only scratched the surface as far as how the war affected her was concerned. She wondered if she should do something about it but she was so exhausted by the idea that she dashed it immediately. What was there to do but wait for herself to get over it? Time healed all wounds, didn't it?

"Tell me what you're thinking." said Teodora.

Hermione slumped forward onto Teodora's desk, her hands scrubbing at her face in frustration. "It's just… Fuck, I'm so tired of being me! I'm over it! Before, I was tired of the war, then I was tired of feeling abandoned by Ron, then I was tired of being sad and it's getting to the point where I'm just sick of _myself_. I'm sick of the drama that seems to surround my life _all the time_. I can't go one day without something shitty happening and I know that's life but I feel like I can't get a break. I feel like I have absolutely no control over my own emotions or reactions. I don't know myself anymore, and I think I'm about to just give up pretending!" she looked at Teodora earnestly, her hands flying out in front of her as she gesticulated wildly, "I don't actually _want_ to hate him, Teodora. I really don't! It just happens! There are so many other things around me that are far more important than some stupid grudge…" she lowered her voice tiredly, "You know the funny thing? We had a civil conversation, an actual conversation, moments before I said those things the other day. I woke up next to him and we talked for a minute and, I mean, don't get me wrong, it wasn't exactly friendly. Just civil. I had all this internal dialogue going on about how I should try and accept him and be nicer to him and minutes later I went and fucked it." Hermione shook her head disbelievingly, "And now I'm starting to realise, he's giving me all these chances, Teodora. He is! I mean, we had that argument in the corridor that day and after that, he _still_ said sorry! I proceeded to be a total bitch to him for the rest of the week and then he went and saved my life! And then, after what I said about his mother, he sees me in Knockturn Alley," Teodora looked at her sharply but Hermione didn't notice, "and seems genuinely concerned about me! What have I… Oh." the full reality of how immature she'd been being settled onto Hermione.

"What were you doing in Knockturn Alley, Hermione?" said Teodora slowly.

"He's the better person now isn't he?" said Hermione, finally looking at her teacher. That's what it had come to. Draco Malfoy was the better person. Had the war turned her into a bitter, cynical woman? The sort that would never marry, never have children or friends because she was too wrapped up in her hatred of the world? No. She _had _to believe it hadn't happened yet. But that's where she was heading. Malfoy appeared to be moving forward while Hermione just kept taking steps back.

"Hermione, why were you in Knockturn Alley?" Teodora pressed urgently.

Hermione wasn't listening, too wrapped up in her epiphany. "I can't believe I didn't realise… When he was a death eater… He could talk the talk, but he couldn't walk the walk. He couldn't kill Dumbledore. He was lowering his wand. But now… Now he's doing both, he's talking the talk _and_ he's walking the walk. He's actually trying to get along with everyone, trying to encourage house unity. The only person he's not getting along with is me." she stood abruptly, "I have to go."

"Hermione. _Sit down_."

Hermione seemed to come out of a dream as she stared at Teodora who was looking up at her with a mixture of frustration and amusement. Hermione sat.

Teodora took a deep breath. "I'm very glad you are starting to see reason. But leave him alone for now, yes? Show him with your action and _then_ your words. Saying sorry is very easy. Acting sorry is much harder."

Hermione nodded distractedly. "Yes, yes, you're right."

"Now, please tell me why you were in Knockturn Alley."

Hermione started. Yes, she had said that out loud hadn't she?

"I… was looking for a book."

"Do you not live above a bookshop?" asked Teodora, her disapproval evident in her voice.

"Yes, but I couldn't find anything there or in the library. I just thought… Perhaps I might find something in Knockturn Alley." she was floundering. She did not want to tell Teodora about the Dividing Lines until she knew more about them, sure that Teodora would react the same way as the other people she'd talked to about them. She didn't want her teacher putting her off the scent. Not when she was so close.

"Is this book on dark magic?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure yet… I won't know until I read it. But I won't go down Knockturn Alley again. I know where I can find it now."

Teodora stared at her seriously and Hermione fidgeted.

"I _will_ tell you about it soon, ok? Just trust that you don't need to worry about me. I'm not doing anything stupid."

"I have already trusted you much with this, Hermione." Said Teodora, shaking her head tiredly.

Hermione felt instantly guilty. "I know. Really I do. Just… This one last time? Please?"

Teodora considered her for a moment before saying, "Alright. One last time. Please do not disappoint me again."

Hermione left Teodora's office feeling more confused than when she'd entered it. Once again, she was aching to fix, to mend, she wanted to run off to find Malfoy but she knew Teodora was right. She had to _show_ she was sorry, not just say it. He'd told her as much when she'd tried to apologise in the classroom. What would she have done if Malfoy had tried to say sorry to _her_? Probably thrown it back in his face like he'd already done. And there it was again. He was indeed showing his apology to the wizarding world by being a better person.

She didn't feel like going home. The castle was warm and quiet and though she was walking through the halls alone, she didn't feel it. The castle felt inhabited and she felt she needed that right then. The calm loneliness of her flat allowed her too much time to think.

Her feet carried her to the library where she intended to catch up on the pile of homework she had received that day from her quietly annoyed teachers. Surprisingly they hadn't seemed to believe her well constructed and thought out lie of, "I had a cold."

She reached the library and entered, immediately losing herself happily in the familiar lines of shelves. As she loitering in the Potions section, searching for a text on advanced potions that Slughorn had told her about, she heard raised voices.

"I'm telling you it's _transvorto_ not _transverto_."

"That's not what I heard McGonagall say."

"You're jabbing too much anyway, it's supposed to be a smoother wand movement. Look, like this."

Hermione rounded the corner and saw her favourite third year Gryffindors sitting at a table, parchment and books splayed out around them. Ebony was demonstrating the movement with her wand.

"I hate to argue with you Noah, but it is _transvorto_." said Hermione, grinning.

"Hermione!" cried Gypsy, looking gleeful.

"Told you." said Ebony smugly.

"Fine." grumbled Noah, scratching something on his parchment.

"I've got homework to do too. Can I sit with you guys? Maybe I can help?" asked Hermione.

"Sure!" said Felix with a grateful smile.

Hermione sat herself down, depositing her books and bag on the table in front of her. She pulled Felix's essay towards her as he appeared to be the one who was the most stressed by his homework.

"Oh yeah I remember this one." her eyes scanned the parchment, "This isn't bad Felix! But, oh yes, here. See? You've mixed up St John's wart with mugwort. Other than that, it's pretty good! Don't beat yourself up so much."

Felix grinned proudly as she handed his essay back to him.

Hermione whiled away a few hours helping the four Gryffindors with their homework and tutoring them on the finer points of transfiguration and potions. When the younger students finally fell silent and the only sound that surrounded them was the scratching of quills, Hermione turned to her own homework. The essay that professor Flitwick had set the seventh years on protective charms, wasn't overly hard as Hermione had become quite adept at them the previous year. Consequentially, her mind was able to wander as she worked.

Hermione felt as if her mind was darting off in several different directions at once, each thought like an uncontrollable, naughty toddler who wouldn't sit still.

She began to question her own reactions to what had taken place at the beginning of the week. She had always had an 'obsessive need to know everything' as Malfoy had so kindly pointed out the previous day, but it suddenly occurred to her that perhaps she had more of an issue with control. The last four days had proven exhausting, even though she'd not done much more than lie on her couch reading. That exhaustion, she realised, came from the chaos having other people in her life inevitably brought. Despite appearances, she found it easier living alone in her flat, even though she was not really entirely happy, it was simpler. She found it easier because, there weren't many variables other than her own emotions. And they were quite enough to be getting along with. Now that she was thrown into the _tovarasi_, she had to deal with nine other loud, damaged young people who were connected to her in a way that she couldn't entirely explain. And her mind wasn't reacting well it seemed. She couldn't control their feelings or reactions at all and that infuriated her when she really thought about it. In the privacy of her own flat, she could say, think and do whatever she liked without having to worry about how that impacted on others. This freedom was exactly what she had left the Burrow to gain but instead she'd jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire, metaphorically speaking.

Unfortunately, Hermione didn't entirely know what to do with this realisation besides grit her teeth and white knuckle it. She'd made her bed, or Teodora had made it for her, and she'd have to lay in it. She'd made the oath to remain loyal. So she'd be loyal to her _tovarasi_, even if that meant she went insane in the process.

At nine o'clock, the four young Gryffindors began to pack up their things tiredly, needing to get back to their dormitories before curfew. Hermione bade them goodbye warmly, hoping she'd been able to help lighten their load even a little.

She elected to stay behind in the library to finish her assignments, figuring Madam Pince would not mind.

After half an hour spent slumped over a potions essay, Hermione sat up, stretching her back and massaging her neck with the hand that was not splattered with ink. As she bent back to her homework, she noticed someone watching her.

Her head snapped up to see Malfoy leaning casually against one of the bookshelves nearby.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked.

"Long enough." he replied cryptically.

He pushed himself off the shelf and walked towards her. As he did, she noticed him holding a satchel in one hand that looked quite heavy. Her eyebrows raised.

"Come with me." he ordered, walking past her.

"You have it?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yes. But Pomfrey will have a fit if she sees this book in here."

Hermione dumped her books and unfinished essays unceremoniously into her bag and followed Malfoy out of the library. They walked a little way down the corridor before he ushered her into a hidden alcove behind a tapestry.

The niche was about the size of a broom cupboard, with a slanted stone ceiling. Opposite the tapestry cum doorway, sat a window with a wide ledge looking out to the dark grounds.

Malfoy pointed his wand at the back of the tapestry as it swung closed behind him and muttered, "_Duro_." turning the tapestry solid so they would not be interrupted.

Hermione added a _muffliato_ before sitting on the window ledge and looking up at Malfoy.

"I didn't think you'd actually bring it." she said.

He shrugged, "Yeah, well, you don't know me very well."

Malfoy wordlessly pulled a large, thick, ancient looking black book from the satchel. He handed it to Hermione who took it eagerly and ran her fingers reverentially over the front cover which boasted the title _Bastet's Line _in a fine, curling print. She opened it and gasped. The title page held only a few title again and, underneath it, a name that looked handwritten but in the same curling print that was on the front. _Gellert Grindelwald._

"Is this…?"

Malfoy nodded, "The original, yes. He gave it to my great Grandfather. It's the only copy in the world."

Hermione could not possibly comprehend what she was holding. The book must have been worth more than she could possibly make in a life time, not to mention written by one of the greatest dark wizards of all time. She could only splutter unattractively as she stared down at the cover in awe. "Oh my… This is… How did the Ministry not confiscate it?"

"Because anyone who was not given express permission to read it, by a Malfoy, would see it only as a grubby old potions text."

Hermione flicked through to the first page, her hands shaking slightly. It was handwritten like the name inside the front cover.

"_Bastet: Mistress of the Oracle, Great Conjuress of the Casket. The goddess to whom we pray when we raise our heads to the sky in search of answers. She holds dominion over our world, over sex, over magic, over fertility, music and healing. Oh, that I was born a woman, only then could I truly consider myself one of Her children. As a wizard, I am merely a servant. _

_"Daughter of the sun, She stands in defiance of grief._

"_I am not a practitioner only a scholar. I have been gifted some of the magics I speak of in this text, but many I have yet to explore. Only a daughter of Her, a giver of life, may truly experience the light that She has to offer. I have seen with my own eyes, women of great supremacy practicing the spells and brewing the potions I have detailed within though most did not understand the power they held. _

_"To truly see our magic, to understand the greatest gift that has been bestowed upon us, we must connect with Her. We do this on Her Line. The Dividing Line. Every magic has limits, to stand on those boundaries with arms open, we may look upon Her in all her beauty. We may begin to understand the world we inhabit._

"_If this text finds its way into the hands of a woman, I say this: your body is Her temple. Worship your body with your own hands, tend to the garden of your sexuality and you will find peace. Do this on Her Line and you will find enlightenment, power beyond the reaches of your imagination. You may allow another to worship Her through you and you will give him enlightenment as a gift, a gift that he must love and revere as he does your body and your mind. The highest peak of pleasure and power lies in wait for you, sister, if you will just turn the page._"

Hermione looked up at Malfoy, she was speechless. A fierce curiosity was coursing through her veins. She felt a great power pulsing out from the book in her hands. It wasn't malevolent or benevolent, just raw, unadulterated power.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, misreading her expression. "I can take it back if you like."

"No!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms protectively around the book. "No. I want to read it… I… I _have_ to read it."

He looked surprised, then worried. "Why are you so interested in this?"

Hermione decided she could be honest with him, he'd come so far as to give her the book, he deserved that much. "My flat. It lies on the Line."

Malfoy looked shocked. "I wish you'd told me that before I gave you that book."

"Why? Do you think it's evil?" she asked.

He laughed harshly, "Well, I don't know if you noticed Granger, but it was written by a man who is second in line to the throne of biggest bastards in wizarding history."

"That doesn't make it evil though…" said Hermione, not entirely sure she believed in her own words.

"Doesn't it?" he asked, perplexed.

"No I don't think so. Grindelwald was once Dumbledore's friend you know, so maybe he wasn't _all _bad… His writing doesn't feel evil. Maybe a little, uh, _ripe_, but not evil." she looked up at him eagerly, "Have you read it?"

He looked slightly wary of her enthusiasm, "Yes, I have."

"What did you think?"

He frowned, "I'm sorry?"

She wondered if perhaps he was confused as to why she was being so friendly to him. She was too, but she cared more about the book and genuinely wanted to know his opinion of it. "I said what did you think of it?"

"I think it's powerful. In the wrong hands, it could cause a lot of damage." he said slowly.

She nodded, yes Graham had told her as much. "Should I be worried about any anti-muggleborn sentiments? I'll still read it, I just want to know if I should brace myself."

Malfoy continued to look confused at her companionable chatter. "No, it's pretty tame in that department."

She nodded approvingly and looked back to the book in her lap. She flicked through to a random page and the heading immediately caught her eye.

"_The Virtus Lucis potion:_

_"Through the ages we have heard tell of wizards who could conjure light without aid of a wand. Though these tales have been converted into the stuff of legends, of myth, I have been gifted with this precious, invaluable endowment by a wise woman I met while travelling through Yugoslavia. Using blood harvested from the palms of my hands, this woman brewed the potion detailed below on Bastet's Line. She gave me the gift of light. To hold the sun in one's hands is a mighty power. A light when all others are lost._"

The text went on to describe how the potion was to be brewed but Hermione forced herself to stop reading before she became too engrossed. She looked up at Malfoy.

"Weren't you tempted to try any of these?" she asked.

"Of course I was… But you read the introduction, '_Allow another to worship her through you and give him enlightenment as a gift_'. I couldn't without a woman who wanted to, uh, give me the gift." he replied.

She was pleased to see him beginning to ease into her company. He no longer wore the puzzled frown of earlier.

"Oh. Yes that would make things difficult by the sound of it." Hermione took a deep breath. Teodora had advised her to show Malfoy her apology. Was this an opportunity to do just that? "Well… If you wanted to… I could… I mean, we could, you know. Try it."

Malfoy spluttered, "Granger, I think you might want to read the rest of the book before you offer something like that."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh my god Malfoy, get your head out of the gutter. I'm sure there are potions and spells in here that we could explore without being…" she curled her lip in disgust, "physical intimacy. I meant we could research it together, if you like. Not as friends or anything, more like… Colleagues."

He gave her a long, searching look. After a moment he muttered, "I'll think about it."

Hermione nodded approvingly and snapped the book closed before standing up. "Good. Well… I'd best be getting home."

Hermione slipped the book carefully into her bag as Malfoy waved his wand and the _glisseo _spell disintegrated, enabling them to walk through the tapestry. Once out in the dark corridor, Malfoy immediately turned to return to the Slytherin dormitories. Hermione put out a hand to stop him.

"Malfoy? Thank you for trusting me with this. It… means a lot." it sounded like a pathetic attempt at gratitude in her ears but Malfoy seemed to relax a little more.

"I'm not worried. I'm pretty sure if you damaged it, you'd throw yourself off the Tower of London out of remorse before I could even get to you." he sneered.

Hermione laughed. "Bye Malfoy."

She walked away from him, fully aware that he was staring at her retreating back in shock. Point one: Granger.

Hermione rushed home to her flat, eager to begin reading _Bastet's Line_. It was getting late and, though she knew she had class in the morning, her hands itched to devour every page before breakfast, even if she had to stay up all night.

She made herself a cup of tea upon her arrival home, so overcome with excitement that she dropped the sugar bowl which splintered all over her kitchen floor. She looked at the mess for a moment before she took up her tea and returned to her lounge room. She could clean it up in the morning.

Her legs curled under her and her tea hung motionless in her hand as she once again, opened the front cover of _Bastet's Line._

As she read, the book's power seemed to sink into her skin, warming her blood. Her heart beat rapidly. It was as if the book recognised her, it greeted her like an old friend.

Within minutes, Hermione began to realise that _Bastet's Line _detailed magic she had never dreamed of. Not only were there potions such as the _Virtus Lucis _which gave the drinker the permanent ability to conjure light in their hands, but many others, that promised power unlike any witch or wizard in Hermione's memory had ever possessed. Power greater than Voldemort's, greater the Dumbledore's, even greater than Grindelwald's as, being a man, he would have been unable to cast many of the spells he wrote about or brew many of the potions.

Hermione couldn't begin to understand why this invaluable source of magic had been contaminated by superstition. She learnt as she continued to read that the potions requiring sexual contact could not be brewed after rape, that the blood could not be taken forcefully if it was needed and by no means would it be profitable to coerce a woman into brewing or casting against her will. There was nothing evil about the text at all. Grindelwald described the magic conjured on Her Line as motherly, affectionate and powerful for woman. So why was it judged so harshly? And where were the great, powerful women who practiced it? Had it been a concept crushed under the thumb of male supremacy?

Grindelwald filled the first quarter of the book with detail of how he came to learn about Her Line. From what Hermione could gather, he had travelled extensively through Europe in his twenties and had come across many nomadic communities in the north where great wise women practiced the magic he spoke of. But he made a point of telling the reader that these women did not share their knowledge with each other, meaning that they did not know as much as he did after he had completed his research.

For this reason, _Bastet's Line_ was one of a kind, a book unlike any other, containing the most information on Dividing Lines that had ever been in one place. And there was only one copy. So that explained the lack of knowledge about the Line, but not the superstition.

Hermione's interest piqued as he began to describe spells and potions in detail, complete with instructions. She found herself, once again, overcome by the power behind the contents of the book.

She read about the _Occultus _spell, which created an absolutely impenetrable protection around a home or dwelling, even going so far as to prove every other protective enchantment Hermione knew mute. The spell made the house invisible, invincible and unplottable. It even outweighed the _Fidelus_ charm in effectiveness, because there was no fickle human to keep the secret. _Occultus _knew who was welcome and who was not. It was intuitive. It melded with the mind of the caster. It also created a Dividing Line where none existed.

She read about the _Unum Cerebrum _potion, which, if taken by two people, gave them a permanent connection to one another's mind, allowing them to communicate with each other telepathically for the rest of their lives.

She read about the _Sanare,_ a healing spell that could bring a person back from the very brink of death. No matter how grievous the injury. The spell quite literally knit the skin, the muscle and the organs back together if they'd been damaged. It purged to body of disease and infection.

There were some spells and potions in the book that Grindelwald merely spoke of but did not detail. And it was these that Hermione was most curious about. There was a spell that Grindelwald claimed would protect the caster from the Unforgivable curses. He spoke of hearing stories of magic conjured on Her Line that would gift a woman and her mate with everlasting immortality.

But what interested Hermione the most was a potion called the _Zeitei Otrava_ which Grindelwald said meant the Goddess' Poison. According to him, this potion was very real. He had taken it. Its purpose was to allow the drinker to quite literally see their own magic. Grindelwald described it as a feeling unlike he had ever experienced, being able to see his own magic melding with his surroundings, with people and other magic.

Hermione wanted, desperately, to experience this.

She began to feel nervous. She knew herself. She could not simply lay this book aside and continue with her life. She would have to experiment, she had to satisfy her curiosity.

No wonder Malfoy had questioned her motives when she had told him of her research. He had just given her a book that could give her power greater than any witch or wizard in history.

Hermione read on and on into the night. When her eyes began to sting, she would rinse her face with cold water and brew herself another cup of tea which later turned into coffee, though at no point did she feel tired. Her mind was running on the adrenaline that pumped through her veins consistently as she read.

As she finally reached the back cover, closing the book slowly, reverentially, she looked up out of her window.

The sun rose.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N I know I don't usually put author's notes at the beginning of a chapter, but bear with me. About two thirds of the way through this chapter, Hermione puts a song on her record player. It's called These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding and I'd really like you guys to listen to it while you read that part as it very much captures the mood of the scene. :)

* * *

CHAPTER 14

WORTHY

_"You think you're not worthy? I'd have to say I agree. I'm not worthy of you, you're not worthy of me."_

Hermione survived the first few classes only by downing a Pepper-Up potion before she left her flat, and storing a spare vial in her bag just in case. She couldn't possibly imagine why she would need it, her head was still whispering Grindelwald's words into her ear seductively and she could focus on nothing and everything at the same time. Unfortunately, her buoyant and excitable mood did not last the day and by lunch time she was nodding off at the Gryffindor table. Her _tovarasi _had gathered around her to eat and she felt grateful through the veil of her tiredness for their presence.

She didn't know why they had suddenly decided to sit with her again, but she felt safer with them around.

She nodded off towards the end of the meal and was woken gently by Luna softly shaking her arm, informing her that they had to go to potions. Hermione caught Malfoy staring at her across the table with a frustrated look. She resisted rolling her eyes.

In potions, she sat with Luna, Malfoy, Padma and Eli, the only people out of her _tovarasi _who had elected to continue the class into their seventh year. She was barely coherent, intent to save her last Pepper-Up for her last class, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Towards the end of the lesson she found herself staring at the ingredients cupboard, completely clueless as to how she had gotten there and unable to comprehend the plethora of labels staring down at her. She reached out blindly to grab a tattered box of something she couldn't identify. A hand landed on her shoulder.

"Granger, that's asphodel. The ingredients list says pomegranate juice."

Malfoy took the box out of her hand and replaced it on the shelf.

"You read that entire book last night, didn't you?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. Yes. The book. The book that had changed her perception of the world as she knew it, that had her physically aching with curiosity, that made her want to vomit with the implications of it all. _That_ book.

He made a show of looking through the ingredients cupboard for powdered newt, but Hermione knew he was staring at her intently. "Should I be worried about this, Granger?" he asked lowly.

Hermione looked him full in the eyes earnestly and said, "I don't know."

She was burning to talk about what she'd read, feeling like if she didn't share at least part of it with someone, she would quite literally burst all over the classroom. Malfoy was her best bet.

She opened her mouth but before she could speak he thrust a bottle pomegranate juice into her hands and turned away, stalking back to his desk looking anxious. Hermione followed behind and sat down in front of her own cauldron. She stared mutely at the instructions for a moment before depositing the entire bottle into her half brewed potion and letting her head fall onto her arms. She was grateful when Slughorn announced the end of class and she packed up her things quickly.

Once out in the corridor with Luna, Malfoy, Padma and Eli, Hermione pulled out her last vial of Pepper-Up and threw it down her throat. She felt the potion seeping into her limbs and vanishing away her aching tiredness.

Luna looped her arm through Hermione's as they walked. "Are you alright?"

Hermione nodded and smiled tensely. "Yeah. Was up all night reading."

"Good book?" asked Padma lightly.

"The best." answered Hermione fervently.

They arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom minutes later and loitered around chatting amicably until the rest of the class made an appearance.

Teodora exited her office when the entirety of the _tovarasi_ were seated.

"I have a special thing planned for you today." she said smiling warmly, "It will not be hard or demanding. I think you deserve a break for the last day of the week."

Hermione felt relieved. Even with her Pepper-Up potion, she was hoping to avoid an emotionally heavy lesson.

"I will be putting you in pairs and you will go out of the classroom with your partner where you will share food together. A picnic, I think it is called." she conjured five small wicker baskets out of thin air. "Your pairs will be this. Eli and Padma, Susan and Juliet, Blaise and Ginny," Hermione felt Ginny shift uncomfortably beside her, "Luna and Draco, and Isobel and Hermione."

Hermione felt marginally uncomfortable about her own pairing but acknowledged that they were well thought out. Each pairing seemed to accomplish something. Luna and Malfoy were polar opposites, two people who couldn't be more different; Eli and Padma seemed slightly uncomfortable and tense around one another even still; Susan and Juliet had never really talked as far as Hermione knew; Blaise and Ginny's rivalry was only outstripped by Hermione and Malfoy's; and Hermione's own pairing was a tense one, as her and Isobel never did see eye to eye.

Hermione plodded to the front of the class to collect her and Isobel's basket. The younger witch met her by the door.

"Where would you like to go?" asked Hermione at an attempt at friendliness.

Isobel shrugged. "How about the astronomy tower? The view's nice…"

Hermione did not usually like going up to the astronomy tower after the events of her sixth year but thought it best not to start an argument before they'd even left the classroom. She nodded and the two women made their way in silence out into the corridor.

Isobel had not even registered on her radar before their seventh year and Hermione realised she didn't know anything about the girl aside from the fact that her father had been murdered in front of her and that she was apparently lusting after Malfoy and/or Blaise. Hermione wondered if she was upset about her father's death or if it had been just seeing death itself that had damaged her. Hermione had never met or seen the death eater as he wasn't in the Department of Mysteries in their fifth year and she hadn't come across him in the Final Battle. Though of course, Voldemort would have murdered him by then. What kind of death eater was he? Was he power hungry and malicious like Lucius Malfoy? Or brutish and obedient like Crabbe and Goyle senior? Or, had he sworn himself to Voldemort to protect his family like Draco Malfoy?

Hermione knew that she couldn't ask Isobel about these things. After all, she'd be upset herself if the other girl tried to pry into _her_ personal life. Perhaps she would find out in due time.

They reached the top of the astronomy tower and sat down close to the parapet. Hermione cast a warming charm on the two of them to ward off the cold. It wasn't the time of year for snow yet, but she knew it couldn't be far away and the astronomy tower was freezing. Isobel grunted appreciatively and took the wicker basket out of Hermione's hands. She pulled out a flask and two goblets which she filled. She handed a cup to Hermione and stared down at the contents of her own, frowning.

"I don't know what this is…" she said hesitantly, as if she didn't want to admit to her own ignorance.

Hermione looked down into her own goblet. It was filled with a black looking liquid that seemed to be fizzing. She sniffed tentatively and laughed. She took a sip.

"It's alright, it's just coke." she said to her companion. "Though I don't know where Teodora could have gotten it."

"What on earth is coke?" asked Isobel contemptuously.

"It's a muggle drink." Hermione replied.

Isobel curled her lip in disgust, "Why would she give us muggle food?"

Hermione shrugged, "Do you have a sweet tooth?" the other girl nodded, "Well then you'll like it. Trust me."

Isobel gave her a sardonic look before taking a hesitant sip from her goblet. Hermione did not have to wait long for her reaction as Isobel began to cough and splutter as she swallowed.

"It's burning my tongue!" she rasped, staring down into the goblet.

Hermione giggled. "It's only the bubbles. It's carbonated."

Isobel rolled her eyes, "I don't know what that means." she took another tentative sip, "It's sort of nice once you get used to it, I guess. Like chilli but not."

Hermione chuckled and pulled two sandwiches out of the basket, handing one to Isobel. The other girl pried the top off of hers to inspect its filling suspiciously.

"Don't worry," she said to Hermione, "I think it's just jam."

Hermione smiled. She didn't need the reassurance but it was nice that Isobel offered it. They munched down the sandwiches in silence, staring out over the grounds. After a while, Hermione began to think that they might as well talk. No doubt that had been Teodora's goal in sending them off together like this. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, however, Isobel pre-empted her.

"Ginny told me you were dating her older brother." she said this as a statement of fact as she pulled some pumpkin pasties out of the hamper.

Hermione was shocked, "Uh… We were. But not anymore." she mumbled.

"What happened?" Isobel asked.

Hermione began to think that her companion might be a little too nosy for her own good. No doubt she was mining Hermione's life for gossip. But then, Hermione remembered the vow they'd taken. So Isobel must just be nosy. "We grew apart." she said shortly.

Isobel gave her a look that said she knew that was barely the whole story. "Isn't that something that happens to people who've been married for years? How do you manage to do that in a few months?" she asked.

Hermione bristled, but she kept a hold of her temper, not wanting a repeat of her situation with Malfoy. "How did you and Ginny get talking about this anyway?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Isobel shrugged, "I noticed that you and her seemed to have a history so I asked her about it."

"Oh…" Hermione found this perplexing. It seemed such a normal situation. Isobel felt curious about something, asked Ginny about it and Ginny had offered up the information. As far as social interactions went, it wasn't unusual. Except for the fact the Isobel was a Slytherin and a death eater's daughter and Ginny was a Gryffindor and unofficial member of the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione couldn't understand how they could be like that with each other when by all rights they had been at war only a few months ago. She decided to follow Isobel's example and asked, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" said Isobel, looking confused.

"How do all of you just forget about the animosity and be friends? I don't understand why it's so easy for you and so hard for me." Hermione admitted.

Isobel laughed cynically, "We're not friends, Hermione. If you actually spent time around the _tovarasi_ you'd see that. We're just doing what Teodora wants us to do. I mean, it's not like we hate each other. Its just tolerance I guess. Ginny and Padma aren't bad and Eli's quite nice for a Hufflepuff. Juliet and Luna are a bit too happy for my tastes and Susan's too quiet so we haven't spoken much." Isobel gave Hermione a level look, "It's not hard to call someone by their first name and be polite to them, even if you'd rather be cursing them. So no, we're not friends."

"And Malfoy and Blaise? Aren't they your friends?" Hermione asked.

Isobel shrugged. "Not really. They're my housemates. You don't really have 'friends' in Slytherin. That's not how it works."

Hermione thought about this for a moment. No wonder the Slytherins were all so morbid if that's the way their house was. Housemates meant people you ate with, played quidditch with and had a laugh with on occasion. Friends meant having someone to talk to, someone who didn't judge you, who loved you.

"So who are your friends?" asked Hermione quietly.

"I don't really have any." Isobel replied, clearly trying to sound offhanded. "Who are yours?"

Hermione looked down at her hands. "I guess I don't really have any either… I mean there was Harry and Ron but we haven't spoken since I left the Burrow."

"Why not?" Isobel all but demanded. Hermione thought perhaps she wasn't nosy at all but just had a habit of letting whatever was in her head slip out of her mouth before she thought about it. Like a darker, more cynical version of Luna.

"I just got the impression that it would be better off to leave them alone." said Hermione, deciding to meet Isobel head on with her honesty.

"What about Ginny? Isn't she your friend?"

"I don't know. We haven't been seeing eye to eye recently."

"You seem to get along well enough."

"Only because we don't talk about what's really bothering us."

"Maybe you should."

"Yeah." It was like banter. Hermione wanted to laugh. Isobel had a question and an answer for everything. She strongly suspected that they would be able to go on like this for hours if given the chance. But she felt bad for Isobel. Hell, she felt bad for herself. Neither of them had friends, people they could go to when things got really bad or stressful. The _tovarasi _were good in a crisis, as she had seen, but when it came to the everyday stuff, they weren't much use. There was still too much unfamiliarity and tension. They were still working through everything. Hermione considered that perhaps if she had had a friend, maybe things might not have gotten so bad after what she did with George. She would have been able to invite her friend over so she could blub and eat chocolate. She would have been able to do what girls do.

"Maybe we could be friends?" Hermione barely had the time to comprehend what she was about to say before the words left her mouth.

Isobel gave her a dumbfounded look. "But I don't like you."

Hermione shrugged, figuring that seeing as she'd said it, she might as well see it through. "I don't like you either, but I don't think either of us like anyone much at the moment. Maybe we could be friends just so we can say we have one."

Isobel appeared to think about this for a moment before she surprised Hermione and nodded her head, "Yeah, ok."

* * *

After the hour was up, Hermione and Isobel walked back through the castle towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione's mind wanted to analyse the conversation but she wouldn't allow it. She had a friend. That was all she needed to know.

A couple of corridors from the classroom Isobel and Hermione came across Juliet and Susan who also appeared to be making their way back. The pairs converged to walk together.

"Where did you guys go?" asked Susan.

"The astronomy tower." Hermione replied, "What about you?"

"Front steps." said Juliet, she then put her hand on Hermione's arm, "Hey Hermione, I was wondering if maybe I could talk to you for a moment?"

Hermione looked down at the girl, confused. Had Juliet's picnic with Susan not gone well? "Sure."

They hung back to let Isobel and Susan walked ahead of them.

"What's up?" asked Hermione.

Juliet looked worried; something that Hermione had never seen the usual bubbly girl do so far. "It's Ginny. I share a dorm with her and… Well I don't think she's doing very well. I've tried talking to her but she just keeps pretending everything's fine. I thought maybe, seeing as I'm supposed to deliver the _Rusine _tomorrow, we could invite the other girls over too and have, like, a girl's night. Might cheer her up a bit."

Hermione looked doubtful. She didn't know how she felt about having seven other girls, who apparently didn't get along as well as they appeared to, in her space.

Juliet gave her a pleading look. "You're the only one who doesn't live in the castle. It might be good for us to get out for a bit. And seventh years can leave whenever they want."

Hermione thought of Ginny and what Isobel had said. She didn't know if her and Harry were alright, didn't know if Mr and Mrs Weasley were coping; she didn't know anything. So perhaps she could go about finding out. With this in mind she said, "Yeah, ok."

Juliet literally jumped for joy, reverting back to her usual over-enthusiastic self. "Cool! Thanks Hermione! Oh, it's going to be so much fun!" she ran to catch up with Isobel and Susan who were still walking a few metres ahead of them, "Hey you two! Wanna have a girls night at Hermione's on Saturday?"

Susan looked excited, "Yeah!"

Isobel looked at Hermione and smiled tentatively, "I'll check my calendar."

Juliet clapped her hands gleefully. "Cool! I'll tell the others!" she ran off in the direction of the classroom.

Hermione arrived behind her minutes later to find Juliet whispering excitedly to Luna and Padma, whom both looked enthusiastic and pleased. Hermione grinned. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

She cast her eyes about the room, noticing that Blaise and Ginny were the only two who had not returned. She opted to sit down next to Isobel as Teodora emerged from her office. Their teacher collected the wicker baskets and went to stand in front of the class.

She looked around in confusion, "We are missing Ginny and Blaise?"

"They were down by the lake last we saw them." said Padma.

Teodora looked concerned for a moment before the classroom door burst open and Ginny entered looking furious. She took a seat beside Hermione wordlessly, and Hermione could see tear tracks running down the other girl's face.

Blaise entered a moment later, looking only slightly more composed, and took a seat next to Malfoy.

Teodora's gaze shifted between the two of them, waiting for them to speak. When they didn't she drew her wand and vanished the wicker baskets with a sigh.

"Tell me why you are both late."

Neither of them spoke. Teodora looked frustrated. She tried again, looking directly at Blaise.

"Blaise, why is Ginny angry with you?"

"Because she has apparently decided to take my opinions as a personal attack." he ground out, staring straight ahead.

Ginny growled beside Hermione.

"What opinions are these?" asked Teodora patiently.

Blaise huffed, "I think the war was a waste of time. And I'm sick of people being so hung up about it."

Hermione wanted to say something, feeling like this was a little unreasonable, but Ginny leapt to her feet, her chair crashing to the floor behind her. "_Hung up about it_?! My _brother_ died, you heartless fucking bastard! And you expect me to just smile and move on?! You might be able to do that Zabini but I can't!" she was crying again, "You know what? I'm _glad_ I'm not like you! I'm glad I can feel! That I'm not some cruel, Voldemort wannabe with no respect and a _whore_ for a mother!"

Blaise jumped up, pulling his wand from his pocket and pointing it at Ginny. "Perhaps you should look in the mirror before you call my mother a whore, Weasley! How much was Potter paying you to spread _your_ legs, huh?!" he snarled.

Ginny pulled out her wand and Hermione stood, noticing in her peripheral vision that Malfoy had too.

Ginny and Blaise stared at each other for a moment before Ginny cried, "_Stupefy_!" as Blaise yelled, "_Reducto_!"

Hermione and Malfoy cast simultaneous shield charms and both spells rebounded. Blaise's _reducto _hit the classroom window which exploded and Ginny's _stupefy _hit Luna squarely in the chest. The younger girl was thrown back several feet, where she lay unmoving on the floor.

The entire class stood motionless, staring at Luna's crumpled form. Ginny's wand hung limply in her hand.

Teodora was the first to move. She walked quickly across the room to her stunned student. "You see?! You see now?! _Stupide copii nenorociti_! This is what war _does_! It hurts innocents! _Enervate_!" she pointed her wand at Luna who opened her eyes slowly and blinked. Teodora helped her to a pillow where Padma joined her. Their teacher strode back to the front of the class.

"You think you are _tovarasi_?! All you show is calm politeness! You will not _talk_! This is why the war will continue, because of you, ten little children! I cannot begin to tell you how disappointed I am." Teodora turned to Blaise, her voice cold and angry, "Mr Zabini, it is plain to see to anyone with _half a brain_ that you are angry and damaged as much as every other person but you will not show it!" she then looked to Ginny, "Miss Weasley, you can preach all you like about your morals but I will not believe a word of it until you put them into practice! You can both turn into bitter old idiots for all I care! I will have no part in this childish, ridiculous rivalry anymore!" she cast her eyes about the rest of the class, "That goes for every last one of you! If you want to hold grudge, if you want to let your anger taint your soul then GET _OUT_ OF MY CLASS!" she roared.

Nobody moved except Blaise, who put his wand away.

Teodora closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. "Alright. I want all of you to write _twenty feet of parchment_ by next Friday on why you can empathise with each one of your classmates. Two feet on each person. Anyone who does not do this will be expelled from this class and receive a failing grade." This news received a few indignant gasps from the frozen class. Teodora continued, "Anyone who does not understand the assignment, I suggest you go look up 'empathy' in the dictionary and educate yourself. Now get out."

The class silently packed up their things. Before Hermione could follow her classmates out into the hall, Teodora approached her, said, "Miss Granger." and pressed a vial of the _Rusine _into her hand before turning and striding into her office. The door slammed behind her.

Once outside the classroom, the _tovarasi _lingered in the hallway with the exception of Blaise and Ginny who walked in opposite directions towards their dormitories.

"Don't worry," said Juliet, "I'll go after her and tell her about tomorrow night."

The younger girl walked away. Hermione looked at Luna.

"Are you ok?"

Luna smiled serenely. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've just been stunned Luna." said Eli, gaping at her.

Luna shrugged. "We got stunned heaps in the DA. And Ginny didn't mean it."

Hermione chuckled quietly. The rest of the _tovarasi _walked off in the direction of the great hall muttering about what Teodora had said but Isobel held Hermione back.

"You going to drink that?" she asked quietly, nodding toward the potion in Hermione's hand.

"Oh. Yeah." Hermione tipped it down her throat and opened her mouth to show Isobel. "See? All gone!"

Isobel laughed. "Gross."

They walked together, in silence towards the great hall for dinner.

After eating dinner at the Slytherin table, grudgingly of course, and dissecting their teacher's outburst fully with her classmates, Hermione apparated back to her flat.

She was immediately grateful for the quiet as soon as she walked through her front door. She _wasn't_ grateful for the opportunity to relive Teodora's speech in her head.

It had made her feel many things. Namely shame. Teodora had given them all trust, allowed them to say things in her class that would otherwise have them in detention. She gave them a safe place to be themselves and be honest and all they'd done was thrown it back in her face. She didn't deserve that.

Hermione wondered how the other _tovarasi _were dealing with it. She hoped they proved smarter than her and would actually listen to Teodora this time. Because their teacher was right. Isobel had said basically the same things up on the astronomy tower. None of them were friends. They were bonded, yes, and very strongly. Hermione could feel it. But they weren't friends. Today had proven that there was still resentment and anger to be dealt with. And unfortunately that wasn't going to happen if they just smiled and nodded at each other all the time.

The events of that days class had almost driven the thought of _Bastet's Line _out of her mind. Almost, but not quite. Hermione fell asleep at eight o'clock with the book clutched to her chest.

* * *

She awoke the next morning early, dragged herself to the kitchen where she made herself a cup of tea and some toast then went back to bed to consume them. She read _Bastet's Line _halfway through, the sun peeking through her curtains and cooking smells drifting tauntingly up from the street. She was quietly contented, Grindelwald's words rolling around her head lazily as she settled in under her covers. After a little while, the page in front of her blurred as her eyes drifted shut and she fell asleep again, her dreams full of visceral colour and a lithe, cat like woman in white.

* * *

Someone was knocking on her door. No, hammering. Someone was hammering on her door. She really thought they should stop. Really, how rude to be hammering on someone's door while they slept.

Her eyes drifted open slowly. The room was dark. What time was it?

Hermione disentangled herself from her bedclothes and checked her watch by the light of her wand.

Six o'clock.

"Oh, shit!" she leapt out of bed, shoving _Bastet's Line _under her mattress. She threw on tights under her quidditch jersey and bolted for the door.

She threw it open to find seven disgruntled looking girls standing, cramped, on the landing outside.

"What the hell, Hermione?" said Ginny loudly.

"I'm so sorry. I was asleep!" Hermione ushered the girls into her flat. Juliet handed her the vial of the _Rusine _as she passed her and Hermione drank it down quickly.

Minutes later Ginny, Luna, Juliet, Susan, Padma and Isobel were all draped around her living room sporting cups of tea or coffee or, in Isobel's case, a can of coke. Hermione grinned at that.

Having seen to her guests, she settled herself on the floor next to her record player. "Feel like listening to anything in particular?" she asked the group in general.

This was clearly a mistake as all seven girls began to call out requests at once. Hermione laughed, "Ok, I'm just going to put on whatever alright?"

She selected a record from her stack and placed it on the player. Seconds later Otis Redding began filtering through the gramophone. The girls fell silent for a moment to listen.

"_These arms of mine,  
They are lonely,  
Lonely and feeling blue.  
These arms of mine,  
They are yearning,  
Yearning from wanting you…_"

Hermione swayed with the music, looking around in appreciation as it seemed to touch each of her female companions individually. She realised she'd picked quite an apt song. This was quite possibly what all these girls were feeling. Lonely, yearning and blue.

"I like this." said Luna.

"Mmm." Padma agreed.

"What would Teodora say if she were here?" said Susan contemplatively.

"She'd ask us who we're yearning for." said Ginny definitively.

There was a moment of silence and Hermione felt openness like she'd never felt before. She knew what was coming and she was ok with it.

"Ron." she said. She looked to Ginny who was sitting next to her.

"Harry." said Ginny quietly. Hermione could hear the pain in her voice.

Juliet took a deep breath. "Fred." she said with a sad smile and looked at Susan.

"My aunt." said Susan sadly.

"My father." said Isobel. That answered Hermione's earlier question then.

"Dean Thomas." said Luna dreamily. Hermione choked on her tea and laughed. Well, they had spent six months locked in the Malfoy's basement together, how could they not have bonded?

"Eli." said Padma, so quietly that Hermione almost didn't hear it.

There was a moment of silence before Juliet shrieked, "WHAT!"

"So _that's _why you two are so weird around each other!" said Susan, laughing.

Hermione giggled along with the rest of the girls. She thought Eli and Padma would be very cute together. "What's stopping you from being with him?" she asked the other girl.

"I don't think he sees me like that." Padma replied.

Isobel scoffed. "What are you, twelve? Be a woman. Just tell him. If he doesn't like you back, fuck him." the group fell about on the floor cackling. "I didn't mean that! I meant, you know, screw him. Oh shut up! You know what I mean!" she giggled.

"Seriously though Padma," said Juliet, tears in her eyes as she laughed, "You should tell him. You'd be so _cute_ together!"

"And anyway, most of us can't have what we're yearning for. So we have to live vicariously through you." said Hermione.

After that, chatter became easy. They didn't avoid heavy subjects as they usually did, but they seemed to have lost their weight. They had created a happy space in Hermione's flat and all their tension seemed to fly out the window. It seemed almost unnatural and the image of the cat like woman in Hermione's dreams flashed in her head. Of course. Bastet cared for woman and they were congregated on Her Line. She was nurturing them. Hermione silently thanked her. They needed this.

Hermione noticed Isobel sticking close by her side all evening and fell buoyed by it. They were friends. The other girl had even demanded Hermione let her attempt to tame her curls.

"I really don't need this, Isobel. It's too much effort!" she said, trying to bat the other girl away from hovering over her head.

"Hermione, keep _still_! Just trust me, ok? It's easy!" she pulled out her wand and Hermione recoiled in mock alarm. Isobel pulled her back towards her and pointed her wand at her head. "_Domare_!"

The other girls made admiring sounds at the effect. Hermione leapt up to look at herself in her bathroom mirror.

She stood still, frozen in shock. Her curls were the same but no longer mad and frizzy. They were tight and bouncy and _pretty_. For the first time since Bill and Fleur's wedding, she felt pretty.

She ran back to the living room and thanked Isobel repeatedly. Isobel looked smug.

Hours later, at almost midnight, the girls finally dragged themselves out the door, already making plans to have another girl's night the same time next weekend. Hermione was overwhelmingly glad to see shining grins on all their faces as she closed her front door.

She listened to their retreating voices and didn't feel tired in the least. She went to her fridge and pulled out a block of chocolate and a bottle of milk, depositing these into a saucepan on her stove so the chocolate would melt through. She planned to drink this with _Bastet's Line_, have a shower, and go to bed, probably to read more.

Hermione could not stop smiling and she danced along to the record still playing on her record player as she stirred the hot chocolate.

A few minutes later the song came to an end and her flat seemed to feel slightly empty without the music. She walked into her living room, intending to put the record back on, when a crack sounded outside her window, making her jump and her heart thud hard under her diaphragm.

Hermione froze. After a few seconds there was a knock. Not on her front door but on her balcony window.

She approached the doors leading out to her balcony carefully, drawing her wand. She hoisted the curtains open and almost screamed.

There, standing on her balcony looking sick and troubled, was Harry Potter.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

ADAMA & EVE

_"You rhapsodize about beauty, my eyes glaze. Everything I love is ugly; I mean really, you would be amazed."_

Hermione threw open the balcony door, a cold gust of air billowing into her living room.

"Harry, what are you _doing_ here!?" she cried, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

"Hey Hermione!" he drew her into a one armed hug as he stepped into her flat. "I thought they'd never leave. It's fucking freezing out there."

Hermione's stomach churned uncomfortably. He was so familiar, his face, his smell, the way he dressed. He was making her ache. He felt like someone she'd known in a previous life. She gaped unattractively as he slumped down on her couch.

"Harry, you can't apparate in Diagon Alley." she said faintly because she couldn't think of a way to articulate her emotions at that moment. She wanted to throw herself at him, whether to beat him or cry on his shoulder she didn't know.

Harry scoffed derisively and said, "I'm Harry Potter." as if that were explanation enough.

Hermione balked. She knew deep down that he'd been able to get away with almost anything at Hogwarts because of his status as the Boy Who Lived, but she didn't think he'd ever knowingly use it like that. Unless there was an emergency.

"Harry," she said frantically, "What's happened? Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" he replied lazily.

She frowned, "I just thought maybe there was something wrong…"

"Do I need a reason to come and see my best friend?"

Hermione felt irritated at that. "But… You haven't spoken to me in over a month."

Harry had the good grace to look marginally guilty. "Yeah, I know… Things haven't been great. But I'm here now, right?"

"I guess… How did you know where I live?" she asked.

"Ron told me. Before he left." said Harry indifferently.

"What do you mean before he left? Where has he gone?" Hermione asked, thrown. How could he be so casual? He spoke about Ron as if he were just some distant acquaintance, as if his wellbeing and his actions had no effect on Hermione whatsoever.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno, didn't say. Just packed his shit and left. He's come back once or twice but… Why? Didn't Ginny tell you?"

"She… she knew?" Hermione was hurt that Ginny would keep this information from her, but knew she would never tell the younger girl that Harry had been here, if only to save Ginny more pain. She was hurt, but she understood. She was struck for a moment that in this scenario, Ginny was being a better friend to her than Harry was.

Hermione felt overwhelmed. Ron had left, without saying anything; Ginny had known and hadn't said anything either. And if Ron had been in Diagon Alley two weeks ago that George probably knew as well. She didn't know whether to be hurt or indifferent. A voice in her ear told her that it probably wasn't any of her business what Ron did anymore. After all, she hadn't told him where she was living. But what about Harry? If Ginny and Ron had both gone then… "I'm confused. So, you're alone at the Burrow now? And have been for the past three weeks?" she asked.

"Yeah, besides Mr and Mrs Weasley but they don't get in my way much." Hermione raised her eyebrows in question and he shrugged, looking away from her, "I like being alone. It's easier that way. That's why I asked Ginny to leave."

Hermione was completely thrown by this. She knew Ginny had been living at Hogwarts but had guessed that she'd left by her own choosing as Hermione had. "You _asked_ her?! Harry, she loves you!" Hermione spluttered. No wonder Ginny was so down then.

He waved his hand dismissively. "She was getting too clingy."

Hermione was struck suddenly by how unfamiliar this manifestation of Harry was. He was still him, but there was something else, she hadn't seen him so calm in a long time. The Harry of the Burrow was either maniacally happy or seemed on the brink of suicide. This Harry was just coldly indifferent, arrogant and lazy. She felt as if she barely knew him. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why are you here, really?"

He smiled at her fondly, a look he reserved for when she was being too smart for her own good. "I've got something to ask you." he said. He leant forward, his expression indulgent, as if she were a naughty child who'd stolen sweets from the pantry, "Are you fucking Blaise Zabini?"

Her mind did a double take. Hermione stared at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open. "Excuse me?" she hissed. Of all the impertinent, inappropriate questions…

"I said are you fucking Blaise Zabini?" he repeated nonchalantly.

Hermione's fists clenched, she was still holding her wand and she noticed dimly that blue sparks were shooting out the end. She hadn't spoken to Harry in five weeks, and now he thought he could show up at her house in the middle of the night, put his boots on her table and ask disrespectful questions about her sex life?

"Get. Out." she snarled.

Harry laughed indulgently, patronisingly, as if her reaction was completely over the top. He stood up and walked towards her bedroom door with his eyebrows raised playfully. "What? Is he here now?"

"Harry Potter I swear to god if you do not get the _fuck_ out of my home right now, I will cause you pain unlike you've ever felt." Her wand lifted to point at him threateningly.

"You're good, Hermione, but you're not _that_ good. So I guess that's a yes then?" he said apathetically.

"No, it's a refusal to answer your disgusting and insulting question. It is _none _of your business who I do or do not sleep with!" she growled. "HHHooHow _dare_ you! I haven't seen you in three weeks, you haven't spoken to me in five and you think you can just show up here and ask me something like that?! What is _wrong _with you?!"

"Ron saw you, Hermione. He was here visiting George and he saw you eating breakfast with the guy. In your _pyjamas._ That really cut him up… Pretty low, Hermione, even for you."

His words lashed at her like a whip and hurt more than she could ever explain. She might not have slept with Blaise, but she _had_ hooked up with George, which in her mind, was far worse. "What do you want from me, Harry?" she whispered, the evil snarl gone from her voice. "You want me to hate myself? I'm already two steps ahead of you."

"You shouldn't have left." he said in a voice that sounded far more childlike than usual. His demeanour began to change. He wasn't standing arrogant and proud anymore, he looked weak and naive. But Hermione was not about to let him manipulate her.

"He could have written to me!" she cried manically, "You both could have! You could have come and seen me if you missed me that much! No one tried to stop me leaving, no one gave a shit! What was I supposed to do?!" Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes, feeling like all the good work she'd done since she arrived back at school was a waste and her guilt rose like a phoenix from the ashes. What was the _tovarasi_ to her apart from a bunch of maladjusted teenagers who brought more drama to her life? What was the point in trying with _them_, when she'd abandoned her original _tovarasi_? Two people she'd promised to remain loyal to above all others?

"Do you love me Hermione?" Harry asked suddenly in that same childlike voice.

She nodded fervently, wanting to assuage some of the damage she'd already caused.

"Then let's get out of England." he said feverishly. "Let's just leave!"

"What?" she looked at him as if he were speaking another language.

He walked towards her, arms outstretched pleadingly. "It's fucked here. There's nothing for us now that Voldemort's gone. Let's just leave. We'll find… something else."

Something else? Hermione didn't like the implications behind that. He sounded fanatical, scary.

She laughed nervously, "Harry, I can't. I can't just leave… There's still so much to clean up here."

Harry looked sad for a fraction of a second before his face crumpled into a snarl. His fist lashed out and smacked into her wall. "Why is it our job to clean it up?! Leave it to the grownups Hermione! None of it matters anymore!" he shouted.

Hermione didn't know what to do. She didn't have the experience dealing with Harry's rages like Ginny did.

"Harry… Let's just talk. Alright? I haven't seen you in ages… You said yourself things aren't going well, talk to me. Come and sit down." she was flailing.

He seemed to deflate; she could see tears shining in his eyes. "I don't _want _to talk!" he said in a pained, pleading voice.

She had no idea what to say to him. What would Teodora do?

"Why don't you tell me what you're feeling, Harry?" she said, trying to sound kind and caring.

"I am feeling like I want to be with my best friend! I want to get out of this country! Away from these people!" he said through gritted teeth.

Hermione paced in front of him. "Ok… Ok so you're feeling… Lost?"

"What the fuck, Hermione! If I wanted a fucking therapist I wouldn't come to you!"

Hermione recoiled as if she'd been slapped. She realised she couldn't help him this time. She didn't know why he'd come to her but she was no use to him. She couldn't handle him. She could feel all her old wounds coming unstitched. Her hands were beginning to shake and her throat was convulsing. She'd gone almost two weeks without having a full blown panic attack and his presence, his behaviour, was bringing one on. She could see it approaching like a storm on the horizon.

"Harry, I'm sorry you're having such a hard time but I… I think you should go. I'm sorry." she said shakily. She hated herself with every word. He was breaking down in front of her eyes and all she could do was offer him an apology and tell him to leave. She was an awful friend, a horrible human being.

But underneath that she felt suspicious and her intuition told her that there was something happening inside Harry that she should not be around to witness. She wasn't his mother. She had to protect herself.

He looked up at her suddenly. "I _want_ you to come with me." he growled in a demanding, childish voice that told her he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"But I can't Harry." she said in a small voice, internally begging him to just go.

He threw his hands up in the air, letting out a high, maniacal laugh.

She began to back away. A sweat broke out on the back of her neck and her vision began to blur at the edges. He looked manic, unpredictable and Hermione wondered if she was indeed having a panic attack, or if she was quite simply frightened. There was something wrong here, something wrong with her friend. She was afraid he would hurt her.

Hermione realised in the back of her mind, that he wasn't going to leave.

She pointed her wand at the floor and whispered, "_Auxilium_."

Warmth began to seep into her feet.

"What did you say?" said Harry, a slightly manic look in his eyes.

"Nothing." said Hermione quickly. The warmth spread through her legs and up her torso.

"I heard you. You whispered something. What did you say?!" his voice rose in pitch. He stepped towards her, arms outstretched. A foot from Hermione, his hands made contact with something that looked like glass. She could see the pads of his fingers pressed up against it. His eyes glazed for a moment.

"I have to go." he said distractedly and, without a backward glance, walked through her balcony door.

The crack of his disapparation echoed through Diagon Alley and Hermione closed the door, shaking from head to foot.

It had worked.

She sunk down onto her Persian rug and pressed her palms onto the floor, her fingers splayed.

"Thank you." she whispered.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning after a restless night's sleep. Despite the shield charm she had cast on her bedroom door before she went to sleep, she still felt frightened after Harry left. Not that the charm would have stopped him had he really wanted to get in. She kept dreaming that he was standing over her bed, watching her sleep.

She felt an old guilt festering inside her. Harry had needed her and she'd pushed him out. What if she'd over-reacted? Of course he'd _seemed_ scary the night before, but this was _Harry. _What if he really had come to her in an hour of need and she'd turned him away? He'd been her best friend for seven years, someone she'd spent almost over single day of her teenage life with. Didn't she trust him? Though, she'd felt in her gut that she should be frightened of him, but then again, when had her gut ever been spot on lately?

Hermione was sick of second guessing herself. Every decision she made seemed right at the time but later on, revealed itself as a mistake. She wanted to feel, for once, that she'd made a good choice.

She spent most of the day lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and sleeping intermittently. She didn't read, or eat. She was better off staying right where she was. She wouldn't be able to make anymore bad decisions from her bed.

Over the course of the day, her lethargy slowly sunk in to depression.

She was overcome. That was it. She was throwing her hands in the air and admitting defeat. She wouldn't deal with it anymore. Harry had punched the wall last night and told her to leave the clean up to the adults. Well, that's what she'd do. She could live in this flat for the rest of her life, work full time in the bookshop and bury herself in books and parchment. She wasn't going to _do _anything anymore. She'd had her chance to do things in the war and now all her productivity was used up. What use was a war hero in peace time? She was obsolete and broken.

Hermione felt her consciousness burying itself deep down in her mind, behind a wall of atrophy. She wasn't going to cry into her pillows or wallow, she was just going to give over the part of herself that cared. Her life could rain on her all it liked; she wasn't going to participate anymore. She would decorate this little hole her consciousness had dug for itself in the unfathomable depths of her mind like a tomb. Her personality, her hopes and dreams, her love and care could all go down there and die.

Hermione had been kicking herself in the teeth for too long. She'd tried to fly but her wings had been unceremoniously clipped and denied. Good riddance. She didn't need them anyway.

* * *

At seven o'clock that night there was a knock on her door. Blaise with her _Rusine _potion. Hermione rolled to the edge of the bed so she could see it through the bedroom doorway.

"Just leave it on the landing!" she yelled. There was no way she was going to see anyone today. She didn't have the energy to pretend like she was ok.

She rolled back and pulled the covers up over her head, curling into herself. She'd get up and get the potion in a moment, when she was sure Blaise had left. And she would write to Teodora tomorrow, asking if she could just be given a vat of the stuff so no one would have to deliver it to her anymore. There was no way she was going to stop taking the _Rusine_ no matter how deeply she felt her indifference. Hermione most certainly did not want to sink back into that pain. She'd given up on pain.

She could almost see the stains on her soul that leaving Ron, turning Harry away, hooking up with George, and saying the things she said to Malfoy had left. It was a cold heart that could do those things and it should have been hard for her to live with it. But she wasn't going to feel any more pain. No more regrets, no more shame. Just this. Nothingness. Indifference.

"Granger? What are you doing?"

Hermione scrambled out from under her covers to see Malfoy standing in her bedroom doorway. She gaped unattractively.

"You left your front door unlocked." he said by way of an explanation.

Hermione gawked. She'd felt so scared of Harry last night and she hadn't even locked her front door? What was _wrong_ with her?

"Why didn't you just leave the potion on the landing?" she rasped.

"Teodora asked us to watch you take it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had thought her life could rain on her all it liked and it seemed as if that was exactly what it planned to do. "Fine. Bring it here."

"I can't." he deadpanned.

"Why not?" she demanded, exasperated and feeling like Malfoy was deliberately trying to make things hard for her.

"Because, Granger," he said, using the voice he specially reserved to make her feel stupid, "You have put a shield charm up over your bedroom door.

"Oh." Yes, she had done that hadn't she? "Could you wait in the lounge room please?" she asked primly.

"Why? Your wand's right there on the dresser." said Malfoy, confused. He never did have any tact.

"Because I am naked, Malfoy." she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

His eyebrows rose minutely as he smirked and turned away, stalking back into her lounge room. Hermione shot up, moving over to the dresser and rifling through the draws. She dragged a long sleeved top and a pair of jeans on and grabbed her wand, waving it to disperse the shield charm.

She joined Malfoy in the lounge room and found him flicking through her record collection.

"Why are you here and not Blaise?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"He had something on with his mother." Malfoy replied distractedly as he slipped a record out of the stack.

"Right."

Malfoy approached her, his eyes never leaving the record in his hand. He handed her the vial of _Rusine_. "I've heard this." he said, flipping the record over to look at the back.

Hermione craned her neck to see and gawked. "You've heard _Nirvana: Unplugged in New York_?"

"Yes. My mother liked muggle music."

Hermione laughed before she could stop herself. Narcissa Malfoy, listening to muggle rock? No. Never.

Malfoy looked at her warningly and her laughter died in her throat. His eyes moved back to the record and lingered for a moment before he placed it gently back onto the pile. He turned back to Hermione. "Ok, drink away so that I can confirm that you're not going to lose your mind."

Hermione glared at him and threw back the potion. She was beginning to get heartily sick of the taste. It made her stomach churn.

Malfoy nodded approvingly.

Hermione had a sudden thought that if she was going to allow her life to rain on her, perhaps she should lean into it. "Well I suppose I should offer you a cup of tea, then." she said stoically.

"Wow, that's about the most polite thing anyone's ever said to me." he responded sarcastically.

"You were a death eater, Malfoy, I can actually believe that." she said with a grin. For a second, she almost regretted it as Malfoy looked momentarily as if he might take offence but instead he just smirked and rolled his eyes.

She did not wait for his response, making her way into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He followed her and slouched casually against her bench as if he'd been doing it his entire life.

"So why were you lying in bed naked at seven o'clock at night with a shield charm on your door? Somehow I don't think it was for any of the reasons I'm thinking of…" he said with a smirk.

Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She realised that if there was anyone in her life at the moment that she could trust to keep her secrets, aside from Teodora of course, it was Malfoy. The rest of the _tovarasi _that weren't Slytherins were all too invested in each other, Blaise wouldn't care and Hermione wasn't sure yet if she entirely trusted Isobel. Malfoy was smart enough to understand the seriousness of the situation and cold enough not to fly off the handle.

"Ok. I will tell you, Malfoy. But you must promise that it goes no further. Ginny in particular can't know." said Hermione seriously.

"Oh, _please_ don't tell me you're sleeping with Potter." said Malfoy looking at Hermione with barely concealed horror.

"Ew, Malfoy, no. For the second time, get your mind out of the gutter." she took a deep breath, "but Harry _did _come and see me last night."

"Right," he said slowly, "I don't see how that justifies the nudity or the shield charm."

Hermione handed him his tea and moved past him to sit on the floor opposite the couch, placing her own tea on her coffee table. Malfoy sank down onto the couch across from her.

She immediately launched into telling him about all that had happened the previous night; Harry's rage, his demanding that she leave England with him and her subsequent fear. Malfoy listened intently, a deep frown on his face for the duration of her explanation. Once she was finished, he lifted his tea and took a sip.

"So that's it? Potter showed up here and had a tantrum?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. "He was being really strange, Malfoy." she said urgently, "I know Harry better than I know anyone, short of Ron, and I have _never _seen him act the way he did last night. I felt really unsafe and I didn't know what to do to get him to leave…" Hermione looked up at Malfoy guiltily, "I used one of the spells from _Bastet's Line_."

Malfoy's mouth turned into a grim, hard line. He calmly placed his tea back on the table and clenched his fists. "Which one?" he demanded, anger evident in his voice.

"_Auxilium_." Hermione muttered.

He scrubbed at his face with his hands in frustration. "But Grindelwald doesn't say anything about it! You, Granger, used a spell in a book written by a dark wizard without proper research on someone who's supposed to be your _best friend_?!" his voice rose in volume with every word.

Hermione glared at him. "You know, you really are great at shaming me, Malfoy. I used it because I felt _unsafe_ ok?! I didn't know what else to do! He was scaring me!"

Malfoy threw his hands in the air, shaking his head, "See this is the problem with you people. If I learnt one thing from Voldemort it's this: it's not the spells you use, it's what you use them for. It would have been _safer_ using the _imperius _curse! But you're so wrapped up in the values the Ministry has instilled in you that you'd rather use a spell you knew next to nothing about!" he laughed exasperatedly as she glared at him, "Don't look at me like that, you know I'm right."

"Of course I know you're right! But I'm not ruthless like you Malfoy! I _love_ Harry! It's easy to curse a death eater! But when it's someone you love, your brain gets all fucked up! I couldn't think properly!" she sighed, "I just wanted him to leave and I didn't know what to do."

Malfoy looked at her for a long time before he eventually seemed to see that he couldn't press his point any further. She felt guilty enough.

"So what did it do? _Auxilium_?" he asked. She could still hear the usual condescending disapproval in his voice.

Hermione shrugged. "It made him leave."

He rolled his eyes, "No shit, Granger, I'm asking how the spell worked. _How_ did it get him to leave?"

Hermione told him about the warmth in her feet that moved up her body; about how Harry could not come near her and how he had suddenly announced his departure after coming into contact with her glass wall.

When she had finished, Malfoy nodded. "Where's the book? Can I see it?"

"Sure." Hermione stood and went to the bedroom to retrieve _Bastet's Line _from her tangled sheets. She walked back into the lounge room and handed it to Malfoy. "Page 394."

He flicked through to the appropriate section and to Hermione's embarrassment, began to read aloud.

"_In Slovakia, I was given the opportunity to be present at a ritual, performed on the winter solstice, to bless the earth for the coming spring. I was told by a fellow spectator that four of their most powerful witches were to cast a spell that was to bring the goddess into their bodies so that She may move through them. I witnessed these four women gather on Her Line together. They pressed their wands to the earth at their feet and each incanted '_Auxilium'_. They then used their own hands to_…"

Malfoy broke off and looked at Hermione. She rolled her eyes and waved for him to read on. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"_They then used their own hands to bring themselves to climax so that they may sanctify the land with their excretions. The spell helped in their arousal and brought them faster and harder to their end._

_"Once the ritual was finished, I questioned one of these women. She told me that the spell allowed the Goddess to meld with their minds and make their feelings corporeal. When I asked her if the spell could be used in any other setting, she appeared most offended, but I have surmised that any witch may cast this spell when she feels in need of it though I have no experimental proof. I was never given the opportunity to see it used in any other environment other than the ritualistic circle._

_Imagine what power this spell might offer if one might cast it and have their deepest feelings satisfied and made real? Could a woman wield it against another person? Could it cause death or torture? Could it heal? I do not know how far the power of this spell stretches and it pains me that I may never find out._" Malfoy broke off, his eyes scanning the page, "He just goes on to talk about the ritual some more. I'd rather not read _that_ aloud."

"No, that's fine. I _have_ already read it before you know." Hermione laughed.

"So, what did you feel last night when you cast the spell? What desire was the Goddess satisfying?" he asked her.

Hermione thought about it for a moment. "Well, I really didn't want Harry to come near me and he couldn't. There was that glass barrier. And I wanted him out of my space. It was like She reached into his mind and made him _want_ to leave when he made contact with the glass."

Malfoy nodded, his brow furrowed in contemplation. After a moment he stood and began pacing the length of her lounge room, the book still open in his arms. "Cast it again. Right now." he said.

Hermione gaped at him. "What?!"

"Cast it." he responded simply.

Hermione shook her head. "Malfoy…"

"What? I'm not worried for my safety Granger. Just cast it."

Hermione glared at him for a moment before pressing her wand to the floor and muttering, "_Auxilium_." She felt the same spreading warmth floating through her body though it felt a little different, as if it were less urgent this time, more peaceful and affectionate. It was nice to experience it without panic clouding her senses. Her mind seemed to drop into a warm, serene fog.

"Now, concentrate." said Malfoy in a low voice, "What do you feel right now?"

Hermione felt hot. The warming charms in her flat combined with the heat pulsing through her body was a little too much. She closed her eyes. Her balcony door clicked open, letting a gust of freezing air hit her body. It stung. The balcony door swung closed. But it was enough, she was more comfortable now.

"Granger, did you just do that?" asked Malfoy in an awed voice that seemed to come from a great distance away.

Hermione nodded. She stood, taking a step back from the coffee table, and held out her hands towards Malfoy. He looked at her in confusion for a moment before the book in his hands drifted towards her outstretched fingers lazily. She willed it to close as it hovered over her palms and set it wafting over to the coffee table where it fell with a thud.

Hermione giggled. It was like discovering magic all over again. She felt as if she was smiling with her entire body, her organs, her teeth, even the tips of her hair. She felt powerful and benevolent.

Hermione desperately wished she could do this while taking the potion Grindelwald wrote about. The _Zetei Otrava_. To be able to see the magic in her hands, floating around her…

"Granger?"

Malfoy's voice was distant and Hermione wasn't listening to him. She was too busy directing her focus to the lanterns on the walls and making the fire in the candles grow to a blaze then dwindle to smouldering wick. After a few entertaining minutes of this, she urged the flame to lift off the wick and float towards her. She stepped forward to cup the little heat in her hands, being sure not to touch it. Her smiled widened. She was holding fire. There was something so blissful, childlike and innocent about her emotions, about the action. Hermione couldn't even begin to describe the peace she felt.

"Hey _mudblood_, perhaps you should listen when your _superiors_ are talking to you."

The flame in her cupped hands snuffed out into a little wisp of smoke. Hermione wheeled around to face Malfoy. He was standing, staring at her with the sneer she knew so well. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

"What? Nothing to say? No words of wisdom? Maybe you _are_ just as stupid as your dirty muggle parents." he sneered. "Where are they anyway? Not dead I hope." he laughed cruelly. "Oh, no that's right. You had them moved into protection. Have you actually seen them though? Because I provided Voldemort with what should have been some very useful information about their whereabouts you know. Aren't they in Australia?"

Hermione felt her knees buckle and she staggered sideways. The heady feeling of the spell combined with Malfoy's words made her mind sluggish and heavy. This couldn't be happening. He'd betrayed her. She realised she'd actually _trusted _him and… Oh no… Her parents. If Voldemort had known where they were surely they were dead. Tears welled in her eyes and spilt down her cheeks. Her lungs filled with water.

She wished then, with all her heart, that Malfoy would feel what she was feeling. That he could understand the damage he'd done. That he'd see that he'd just signed her death warrant.

Suddenly the sneer on Malfoy's face crumpled. He clutched at his chest and staggered slightly. His mouth gaped and his eyes filled with tears. She saw her own grief mirrored in his face as he let out tiny, shaking sobs.

"Granger," he gasped as he fell to his knees at her feet, his hand still clutching at his heart, "I didn't. Was just trying to see. Your parents. Fine." He fell forward on his hands and gave a great, choking howl of pain. Not physical pain, emotional. A howl like the one she'd given at the start of term in McGonagall's office. Animalistic and desperate.

It was not a sound she expected to hear from Malfoy. But she didn't care. He deserved it. She would sit in this spell for a century, pushing her will onto him, only to see him lose his mind and… But wait. Her logic suddenly came creeping back in. If he had indeed meant what he'd said and he had handed Voldemort information on her parents whereabouts, why choose a moment when she was cultivating a power neither of them knew much about? A power that could quite possibly far outmatch his own?

She slumped down on the floor in front of Malfoy and consciously willed the pain in him to leak away. The warmth sank out of her body as the spell faded and he tried to catch his breath.

"You heartless bastard." she said coldly.

"I'm sorry for calling you a mudblood." he rasped.

"What if I'd wanted to kill you?" she demanded. She felt light headed but couldn't decide if it was because of the monumental emotional upheaval Malfoy had just caused her, the force of the energy she'd expelled to get back at him, or just the general side effects of the spell. Her stomach hurt.

"I know you. You wouldn't do that. But I thought… _Crucio_ at least." he sat back on his haunches and shook his head, puffing, "That was so much worse. I could have handled _Crucio_."

He leant into his hands and puffed for a few minutes. Hermione watched him coldly.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"I wanted to answer Grindelwald's question," he rasped, "I wanted to know if the spell could give you the power to hurt other people. It was the only way I could think to do it."

Hermione was momentarily thrown by this. She realised that this ruthless pursuit of knowledge was exactly what made Malfoy the perfect research partner. She would have been angry if he had been willing only to sacrifice _her _safety, but he had shown himself willing to sacrifice _his _as well. He hadn't known what she'd do to him, but he'd been willing to take the risk. This felt important to her.

"What did you will to make me feel like that?" he asked.

"I wanted you to feel exactly what I was feeling." Hermione replied quietly.

"Fucking hell." whispered Malfoy. He frowned. "I won't do that again." he promised.

"Thank you." said Hermione weakly. "So I guess this means you'll help me?"

"Yes, I'll help you." he said with a weary air, as if he thought he should be doing no such thing.

Hermione felt her stomach cramp again and grimaced. "Can you help me up please? I think I need to eat something…"

Malfoy nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He hooked his arm under hers and pulled her up. She smiled gratefully and limped into the kitchen.

Hermione lit the stove and put a pot filled with water on one of the hotplates, adding three raw eggs.

She watched the water as it began to bubble and her mind ticked into gear. She felt a rising sense of dread and turned to Malfoy slowly. "Malfoy? He didn't know where my parents were did he?" she asked in a small voice.

He gave her what she thought might be a sympathetic look before she dashed the thought. Malfoy didn't do sympathy.

"No, Granger. He tried to find them but you hid them well. He didn't know anything. I promise."

For some reason, Hermione believed him.

* * *

A/N So, my lovely reviewers, I hope you liked this chapter! And I have a special treat for you. A little while ago, I began writing a song that was inspired by Draco. Writing this story has made me want to finish it and finish I did. It can now be found on youtube!

watch?v=qgRz4JSpOcY

If the link doesn't work, just search 'little dragon man draco malfoy prettydesdemona' :D

I also have a question. I was thinking of beginning to reply to my reviewers via a vlog. So I'd record my responses and put them up on youtube for you all to see. What do we think?


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

FIRE DOOR

_"You know, taken out of context I must seem so strange."_

The following months passed, to Hermione's joy, relatively drama free though extremely busy. September gave way to October, then November. The cold descended on Diagon Alley and snow coated the Hogwarts grounds with a soft white fuzz. Many things had slowly begun to change for Hermione. She'd settled into her life. Something she hadn't felt she'd done in a very long time.

There were no more visits from Harry and though she tried to write to him, imploring him to realise that she loved him and would always be there for him, he never wrote back. Hermione dealt with this by deciding that next time Harry came to see her, no matter what time of night, and no matter how odd he seemed, she would be there for him. Her heart ached at night to have Harry and Ron at her side again. Her reality felt so anti climactic. After over seven years, they were separate from her, each dealing with their own demons, living their own lives and she was quite simply not a part of it anymore. It wasn't right. She almost hated that her life was going well, because it felt as if it shouldn't be without them around. Her encounter with Harry had left her shaken for many weeks, and she wished she'd been more receptive to him. But what was done, was done.

She tossed and turned over whether or not to tell Ginny about Harry coming to see her. She felt like maybe, because Hermione and Ginny were the most important women in Harry's life, they should have a serious discussion about his situation. There was something wrong with him. He needed help. However, the younger girl's subtle but very real progress held Hermione's tongue. She could not bring herself to do that to her. Ginny refrained from mentioning Ron around Hermione for the same reasons. In the end, there was nothing either girl could do for the men they loved except wait patiently for them to come back, if they ever did.

Hermione could tell that Ginny was still strained despite her progress. She was quieter, more serious and Hermione knew it wasn't all because of the war and her grief. There was something fresher about her sadness, something that Hermione could identify with. They were both, in their own minds, suffering in silence. Somehow, Hermione didn't think this was helping. Only once had she braved her own fears around the subject and attempted to talk to Ginny about Harry, had asked her if she had seen or heard anything of him. Ginny had told her that they corresponded regularly in writing but she seemed disinclined to say anything further. There was something ominous about this. Hermione felt spooked by the juxtaposition between Harry's attitude towards Ginny when he had visited Hermione, and the knowledge that he was still writing to her. Ginny made it sound like they were fine.

Aside from that one time, Hermione stayed far away from the subject. Talking about Harry meant talking about Ron, really. And she didn't want to go there.

Hermione was surprised to discover that despite these underlying worries, her schooling was going better than she expected. She continued to maintain her position at the top of all her classes. But no class went better for her than Defence Against the Dark Arts. Their teacher proved time and again her great wisdom when dealing with her students and Hermione had begun to think that Teodora's lecture in September was a carefully constructed plan. She'd quite literally guilted her students into behaving better. No one spoke out of turn, they made a recognisable effort to get along with each other and followed Teodora's instructions enthusiastically. The group may not have, at that point, formed the sort of bond with each other that their teacher expected, but Teodora had at least gotten them to care for _her _and in doing so, made them despise the idea of upsetting her. It worked like a charm. Their classes continued along to group therapy line and Hermione felt she was making progress with her companions and they with each other.

The _tovarasi _had fallen into an easy familiarity. Even Isobel had grudgingly acknowledged that she would consider the other girls as friends. There was not a class or meal Hermione took where she was not surrounded by them, and she found she didn't at all mind. She didn't feel crowded or annoyed, only cocooned and her relationship with each member had progressed far beyond what she had originally expected.

She found herself far more tolerant of Luna, who was still prone to spouting some of the ridiculous concepts Hermione ever heard. But now, she found them endearing not irritating. Luna's openness encouraged Hermione's and so in the young Ravenclaw, she found someone she could speak freely with about her fears and desires, who would not judge her for them.

Her initial reluctance to get to know Blaise was almost completely wiped from her mind, the only black mark against his name being from what he'd said to Ginny. Hermione saw this as residual loyalty for her housemate and ignored it for the most part. He was good company, providing witty and intelligent conversation. Whatever was happening between him and Ginny was their own business.

Hermione watched in amusement and exasperation as Eli and Padma began to court each other, stumbling from one awkwardly muttered sentence to the next. Her view on this partnership was shared by the majority of the group aside from Padma and Eli themselves who steadfastly denied any claims to liking each other. Hermione laughed along with the rest of the _tovarasi_ at their awkward pairing in public, but in private, Padma had taken to confiding only in Hermione as to her own feelings. Hermione found this refreshing. It was nice to feel trusted.

She grew closer to serious and quiet Susan, finding her excellent company when Hermione didn't feel like talking. The Hufflepuff girl gave brilliant advice and unwavering support when it was needed and knew when to be silent when it wasn't. Hermione liked that. Susan didn't talk about the atrocities committed against her during the war but Hermione noticed that she smiled more now, surrounded by her friends. It was beautiful to watch such a bright, loving character unfold in front of her.

Juliet, who always knew exactly how to make Hermione laugh and who's kind, sweetness made her heart glow at every opportunity, had become almost like family, like a sister. Hermione wanted the younger girl close, even if they shared little in common and spoke far less to each other than they did to the others. Hermione was comforted by her presence.

But none other was more important to Hermione than Isobel. In her, Hermione had found a close comrade, a best friend, who followed her almost blindly. Their friendship had skyrocketed after the conversation they had shared at the top of the astronomy tower, even though they had initially decided to be friends in name only, because they had shared a mutual loneliness. Isobel was loyal, something Hermione had never guessed a Slytherin could be. She was attentive and was always the first to notice when Hermione was down or anxious. Hermione felt guilty at how much the girl gave to her, wishing she could find something to give back. Isobel walked with her in the grounds when Hermione had panic attacks, to calm her down. Every Saturday night, Isobel would sleep at Hermione's flat, they would share a bed and cook breakfast together in the morning. Never in Hermione's life had she experienced a friendship so close, so familiar, so free of complication. They did not laugh together, they did not share secrets or swap stories. They rarely spoke properly. But they _knew_ each other. There was a closeness between them that Hermione could not compare to anyone. Not even Harry and Ron. They were men and so there was always that barrier. Isobel was a woman who shared so much in common with Hermione that it made her head spin. Oh, the surface stuff was different. Isobel wasn't studious or interested in intellectual pursuits like Hermione and Hermione wasn't snobbish or buffeted about on the winds of fashion as Isobel was. But in essentials, they were the same. There was comfort in that.

Hermione quickly realised that her feelings for the girl had deepened past fondness, past care. Though she would never say it to Isobel, she loved her. Properly. She knew Isobel would be by her side for the rest of her life and further.

Hermione felt no confusion or angst around her relationship with Isobel, it was simple, rewarding and close. Unlike, unfortunately, her relationship with Malfoy.

Yes, even after two months, he was still Malfoy to her and she was still Granger to him. But she had spent far more time with him than any other member of the group aside from Isobel. It had started slowly, quietly, with the occasional meeting in the alcove near the library to talk over something Hermione had read and to glean his opinion on it. Then, one night in October, she had found a term that she felt sure she had heard before but could not remember. When Malfoy hadn't been able to identify it either, they had retired to the library together in search of it. Eventually, it had gotten very late and Madam Pince had unceremoniously kicked them out. Hermione had suggested they continue back at her flat with her personal library. To her surprise, this had sparked what soon became a tradition of Malfoy leaving Hogwarts with her after dinner so that they may research into the night in the comfort of her flat.

They did not speak of the war, or personal matters, only those things that were specific to the Dividing Line. This, unfortunately, did involve a certain amount of candidness. The magic in _Bastet's Line _dealt heavily with sex, pain and power. So Hermione had forced herself to reach a level of comfortability with Malfoy that allowed her to speak of such things with him. This was essential, but they still managed to dance around the subject, both talking about sex with a clinical directness and leaving out any personal experiences or thoughts on the matter. For all she knew, Malfoy could have been asexual and she did her best to seem that way to him in return.

Their time, at first, was spent experimenting with the _Auxilium _spell, minus any more of Malfoy's ruthless experiments with her emotions. She had made a strict boundary on that from the get go. If they were going to put each other in danger with their research, they must both be fully aware and consensual. She had been firm on this, not that she needed to be. Malfoy too had been entirely against the idea of experiencing the kind of pain she had inflicted on him again.

They had made significant progress on the _Auxilium _spell, discovering that it could _only_ be cast on the Dividing Line, after Malfoy had suggested they try it one night before they left Hogwarts. They discovered that only Hermione could cast it, as Malfoy himself had tried one evening, just to see what would happen. They also found that it _did_ require a particular amount of skill and practice to wield it properly after what proved a disastrous experiment on Hermione's part. She had been attempting to use the power to tickle Malfoy without touching him, the only non painful way they could think of experimenting with the spell's effect on other people, and Hermione had accidentally broken one of his ribs with the force of her will. She couldn't help but laugh at him as he whined piteously about her incompetence on that occasion. He had stopped short when she threatened to let him limp all the way to St Mungos without her healing.

They remained nothing but colleagues, though they shared space, conversation and the secret of _Bastet's Line_. They were not friends, they were not close, merely equally curious about the magic they had found together. Hermione aimed to keep it that way. Despite her equitable working relationship with Malfoy, she still found him too brutal, sometimes childish and more than usually sarcastic. He shamed her and treated her like an idiot more often than not and they had an inordinate number of shouting matches while working together. Though he never did call her mudblood again.

She was not interested in the slightest, in furthering their partnership into friendship.

Aside from her evenings spent with Malfoy, the now regular Saturday gatherings at her flat with the female members of the _tovarasi _and her schooling, she worked at Flourish and Blotts on the weekend. And enjoyed it immensely. Graham was a considerate boss who openly tried to make her work environment easy going. She loved spending days surrounded by the smell of parchment and leather. She loved conversing with the customers and recommending titles to them. And, to top it all off, Graham had been right in saying she would utilise the staff discount to increase the volume of her own library. Her bookcase was heaving under the weight of the tomes she had acquired since she began working. There was an easiness in working at Flourish and Blotts that she couldn't find anyway else. For fourteen blissful hours every weekend, she got to stop her racing mind and focus on just one task. It was relieving and greatly added to her happiness. Graham docked her pay only marginally for her room and board at first, until she insisted on paying him more. She was left only with enough money to buy the essentials and this she was happy with. Hermione never liked having too much money.

Towards the end of October, Hermione's life got even easier. She finished her course of the _Rusine_ potion. It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders, a part of her life was over. It had been almost two months to the day since she had attempted to _crucio _herself and she was happy to finally be able to leave it behind her. She could now assure herself that the damage was healed and she'd be ok. She had wondered in passing quite a few times just how Teodora would know when the potion had done its job but she soon found out. Her stomach had been churning for a month every time she took it, but she just attributed this to her becoming sick of the taste until she had been unable to stop herself throwing up in Teodora's office one evening after her dosage. Teodora had announced that this meant the potion had finished its work. Hermione wished she'd been warned but was happy and relieved none the less.

That night had seen one of her more emotional conversations with her teacher and she left the office feeling profoundly grateful for Teodora.

Hermione's gratitude often extended to the people in her life. One such person was George who, on a few of her free evenings over the course of September and October, Hermione had spent time with. They had talked, agreeing that what had happened between them was a mistake not to be repeated. Hermione had agonised over George's insistence that Ron never know what had occurred but eventually comforted herself with the idea that she would probably never have the chance to tell him even if she'd wanted to. After a few awkward dinners and heavy conversations, their friendship fell into an easy comfortableness that was satisfying to both of them. George did not talk to her about Ron's absence and she did not bring it up with him, figuring the less she knew the better. He seemed to sense her moving beyond the war in a way and beyond her pain and he drifted away from her as a consequence. He was an old friend whom she saw rarely but did not love any less.

Even after all of this, the biggest change in Hermione's life was her mindset. She still had panic attacks, but she was learning how to deal with them slowly, forming her own methods and exercises to make them more manageable. She still got depressed, regularly, she cried and hated herself but now, she leant into it with an acceptance she had no idea where she'd found. She would sit in her pain and feel it, waiting, not at all patiently, for it to pass. Of course, the old wounds were still there but they were buried. The tomb she had built deep in her mind all those months ago after her confrontation with Harry had been useful, though not as a pit to dump her hopes and dreams and caring. It had become a chasm in which to discard her pain and guilt and shame. She didn't know if it was healthy or not, but it felt easier. She didn't feel like she was being eaten away at from the inside anymore. She wasn't second guessing herself. Something was wriggling its way into her psyche. There was a new voice in her head these days, that calmed her and reassured her when she felt down. It didn't make the pain evaporate, lord no, but it lent her that acceptance so she was not tempted anymore to hurt herself or withdraw. She was open.

One evening at the beginning of November, as she read through _Bastet's Line_ in bed for the fiftieth time, she realised with a start that she was feeling happy. Properly happy. Happy with her situation, happy with her life, happy with her friends. It was such a radical change of pace for her that she immediately had a panic attack and had to lie on her bathroom floor with her cheek pressed against the cold tiles for ten minutes. But the feeling had been there and that was comfort enough, no matter how fleeting. She'd felt content.

She'd felt like she was healing.

* * *

"Malfoy, I am _not _doing that." said Hermione one rainy Thursday night in late November, in response a rather impertinent question from her colleague.

"Granger, come on, it's one of the only spells in this fucking book that I can cast!" his voice was whiney like a child's. It grated on Hermione nerves.

"Certainly not." she said sternly.

"Look, just listen…"

"Malfoy I've read that book at least fifty times…" Hermione said wearily.

"Just _listen_!" he demanded. Hermione rolled her eyes. "_Apicem: a spell to bring a woman to a spontaneous climax and one of the only I have yet heard of that can be cast by a male. The witches I have spoken to have said that this is because the goddess has a sense of joviality and believes that a woman should be given this succulent, sensual reward at every available opportunity. I, myself, have had the pleasure to…_"

Hermione cut him off. "Malfoy I _know _what it says! The answer is no! I do not want… That."

"You look like you could use it." he said sulkily. Hermione ignored him. This was not the first argument they had had on the subject.

"Why don't we try the _Virtus Lucis_?" she asked, in an attempt to compromise.

Malfoy shrugged grumpily. "For some reason I don't really fancy having you butcher my palms just so I can conjure light in my hands."

Hermione knew he was just being stubborn and quite probably would be entirely willing to allow her to brew the potion necessary for this. But Malfoy was used to getting his own way and she had the feeling he was arguing with her just because she was saying no.

Such was another evening spent in her flat. Hermione was perched on the couch, pouring over a difficult transfiguration essay while Malfoy lay sprawled on her Persian rug, _Bastet's Line_ open in front of him. She stood up and stretched her aching muscles.

"Can I have one too?" Malfoy grunted from the floor.

Hermione didn't bother answering as she trudged into the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove. She grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and put a tea bag in each, adding three spoonfuls of sugar to hers and a half a teaspoon to Malfoy's. Once the jug was boiled, she poured the boiling water into the cups and topped them up with milk.

As she returned to the lounge room she noticed Malfoy staring hard at the book in front of him.

"Found something interesting?" she asked lightly, praying that he'd moved on from the _Apicem _spell. She handed him his tea.

"Yeah." he said distractedly, taking a sip from his mug. "This is too sweet. What part of half a teaspoon do you not understand, Granger?"

Hermione rolled her eyes again, a habit that she had honed by being in Malfoy's presence so regularly and was beginning to make her eye sockets ache. She sat back down on the couch, noting that Malfoy continued to drink the tea regardless of his complaints.

"This potion." he said after a moment, "sounds sort of interesting."

"Oh?"

"But there's no instructions for it. Grindelwald just gets waxing lyrical about it and moves on." He sounded frustrated.

"Which potion is it?" asked Hermione.

"The _Zeitei Otrava._" he replied. "It's a…"

"I know what it is!" cried Hermione, "The Goddess' Poison. Oh, I wish I knew how to get the recipe..." her longing was evident in her voice. "Can you imagine? Seeing magic! Actually _seeing _it! I can't even begin to visualize what that would be like. He describes it so beautifully." she sighed, "But he…"

"… doesn't say anything about where to find the recipe." Malfoy finished her sentence.

"There's got to be something, right?" said Hermione desperately. "Maybe we could go down Knockturn Alley?"

"No." said Malfoy severely. "If anyone's doing that, it'll be me and me alone."

"Fine." Hermione huffed. "But you'll do it?"

"Of course. I'll check the library at the manor too."

"Ok. What shall I do?" asked Hermione eagerly.

"You could go to Romania." Malfoy replied wryly.

"What?"

"That's where he says he took it. Romania."

Hermione laughed sardonically. "Yes, I'll do that. I'm sure it's lovely this time of year." She thought for a moment. "I could try asking around again…"

Malfoy gave her a long suffering look. "Seriously? I thought you said you'd read the book. He says the witch who brewed it took blood from his _heart_, Granger. You really think people are going to react well to that?"

"Yeah, alright, it was just an idea…" said Hermione grumpily.

"Well, think it through next time." he responded dismissively.

"God, you're such an arsehole." she snarled.

"I try." he said wearily.

"Why have you got to be like that?!" she snapped.

Malfoy sighed exasperatedly and sat up, rubbing his eyes, "Let's just skip this, shall we? You throw insults then I throw insults, banter, banter, so on and so forth and then you storm off. Let's not and say we did, yeah?"

Hermione stormed off into her bedroom.

This was their dynamic now. She wouldn't throw him out of her flat or refuse to speak to him. Each member of the group had a special significance to Hermione, they were each useful to her in their own ways. This was Malfoy's use. He helped her quench her thirsty curiosity. And she put up with his sarcastic and insulting attitude because of this. After each argument he would act as if the confrontation had never happened, as he always did. She couldn't decide whether she thought this was incredibly mature or incredibly childish.

Hermione curled into her bed to read, knowing that Malfoy would ignore her absence and continue on with his studies in her lounge room.

She had just propped a book up on her chest when there was a knock on her front door.

After a moment, she heard Malfoy say sarcastically, "I'll get it, shall I?"

She heard voices filtering in from the lounge room before Isobel appeared in her bedroom doorway a minute later, her blonde hair hanging limply around her face, wet with the rain. Hermione patted the bed beside her. To her confusion, Isobel closed her bedroom door before joining Hermione on the bed.

"Hey." she said, sounding distant and distracted.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, setting her book down on the nightstand and sitting up.

Isobel shrugged. "Nothing… Just thinking too much."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah…" she seemed to shake herself a little, "You fighting with Draco?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "When am I not?"

Isobel gave a hollow laugh.

"Don't you think it's weird?" Hermione asked.

"What?"

"Me and him. I'm sort of amazed no one's asked about it."

Isobel held her hands up and laughed. "Hey, I'm not going to question your weird little relationship. You guys seem to be making it work."

Hermione cringed. "You talk about it like we're a couple."

Her friend looked confused. "Aren't you?"

Hermione cackled madly. "What?! Where in the hell did you get that idea?!"

"Well he comes home with you every night and doesn't get back to the common room until really late. You always sit together in class and at lunch and dinner… We just assumed you were… Together."

Hermione thought about this for a moment. It had never occurred to her what her partnership with Malfoy must look like from the outside. But now, she realised that Isobel's conclusion made a lot of sense. Regardless, it still made her want to crawl out of her own skin.

"Well no. We are certainly not a couple. Wait, what do you mean 'we'? Are you saying the rest of the _tovarasi _think this too?"

Isobel shrugged and nodded.

"Oh my god… That's… Wow." Hermione shook her head in wonder, "How has Ginny not tried to murder me?"

"Dunno."

Hermione noticed again how cold and sad her friend seemed. Hermione hated it when Isobel was sad, it seeped into her bones. She laid a hand on Isobel's knee.

"What's going on? And don't say nothing because I know that's bollocks."

Isobel took a shaky breath. "It's my father's birthday next week."

"Oh." Hermione didn't know what else to say. She didn't like to think of Isobel's father because it made her question their friendship. She didn't like to remember that the closest person to her right now was a death eater's daughter.

"Do you ever feel like you're obsolete?" asked Isobel, quietly, "Like now that the war's over, there's no point anymore?"

Hermione nodded mutely.

"I don't know," said Isobel with a sigh, "It's easy for you. You're a war hero. People want you around… No one wants me around. I'll always be painted with the same colour as my father. I'll always be as good as a death eater to them."

Hermione knew this was the point at which a good friend would tell her that she wasn't obsolete and someone _did _want her around. Hermione wanted her around. But she couldn't say it. Instead she said, "But Malfoy's in the same boat…"

Isobel shrugged, "Yeah, but he's different. He doesn't give a rats what people think. When people call him names when he's in public, he brushes it off like it doesn't matter. I can't do that. Every time someone does that to me, it kills."

Hermione gaped, "Wait, people call you names?"

Isobel nodded, "All the time. That's why I don't leave the castle much. People at school are a little nicer."

"But, you come here all the time… Are you saying strangers abuse you in the street when you're walking to my house?" Isobel nodded again, "Right well that's going to stop. I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron every time if I have to. Anyone who wants to abuse you, has to go through me first."

Isobel smiled sheepishly, "Thanks Hermione."

"That's quite alright."

Hermione felt bad. She knew Isobel needed more from her. She knew she should be loving, reassuring, but it just wasn't coming out for some reason. She felt blocked.

"Would you like to stay for tea?" Hermione asked lightly, knowing this was not enough.

Isobel shook her head, smiling sadly. "No, I should get back. I just wanted to see you."

Hermione nodded, again unable to say anything much. Isobel stood up and made for the bedroom door. Hermione followed her donning her cloak and a scarf.

They entered the lounge room and Isobel said a hurried goodbye to Malfoy before following Hermione out of the flat.

They walked in silence up the street, the rain pattering down on the hoods of their cloaks. Hermione noticed the few people that were still out in this weather, were indeed staring, though they said nothing. She glared at those who stared too long. She'd meant what she said. Anyone who so much as breathed in Isobel's direction would get a stunner right in the face.

Once the two girls reached the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione gave Isobel a warm hug, trying to pour all of her appreciation and feeling into it, then watched as Isobel disapparated.

Hermione walked back to her flat, hands in her pockets and her mind abuzz.

She was worried about Isobel but it was more than concern. There was a feeling, niggling at the back of her mind, that told her something wasn't right in her life right now, despite all the wonderful calm and acceptance she'd been feeling. It had seemed like things her looking up, that it was getting better. But something was coming. Looming on the horizon like a storm. She could smell it in the air like approaching rain.

Hermione didn't know what to do with this feeling. She was a fixer, a mender. When something was wrong with the world around her, she flew into action to repair it. She'd done it with the house elves, she'd done it with the war, she'd done it every single year at school with all the trouble her and Harry and Ron had run into. But she didn't know what was wrong here, so all she could do was sit patiently in wait and hope she'd be ready when it hit.

She drew her hood up a little more to protect her face from the drizzle and walked on.

* * *

A/N It turns out that trying to put a video up on the internet is harder than it looks! So you must wait patiently for your review response at this point! I'm sorry.

To all those who reviewed, thanks for the love! I hope everyone liked this new chapter!


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

SORRY I AM

_"I guess I never loved you quite as well as the way you loved me. I guess I'll never be able to tell you how sorry I am."_

Hermione's concerns from the previous week were gone from her mind by Friday evening when she was getting ready to leave school after eating dinner in the great hall with the _tovarasi_. She had been most worried about Isobel but her friend seemed to have found a new font of determination within herself in the space of a few days. She didn't seem entirely happy but she appeared to be resolute and stronger. Consequentially, Hermione had put her worries to bed, assuring herself that Isobel would be fine. The only moment that gave her pause for concern was when Isobel had stopped her at the front gates of Hogwarts as her and Malfoy walked to Hogsmeade station to apparate back to her flat.

Isobel gave Malfoy an uncomfortable look before he told Hermione he would meet her at her flat and strode away.

Hermione looked at her friend, her eyebrows raised in question.

Isobel cleared her throat, "I just wanted to tell you… I know this sounds bit odd… but I wanted to say thank you." she stammered.

Hermione frowned in confusion. "For what?"

"Well… You're a great friend… You know what I am, where I've come from and you like me anyway. So… Thanks. I guess I needed that. I needed to know someone likes me as I am."

Hermione did not say that this was mostly because she ignored Isobel's past and chose not to think about it.

"Well, you're welcome. And… Likewise. Thanks for like me despite what _I've_ come from."

Isobel grinned sheepishly.

"I should let you go. You and Malfoy probably have dinner plans, no doubt." she said wryly. Hermione rolled her eyes, grinning.

She hadn't bothered correcting the _tovarasi_ in their belief that she and Malfoy were a couple. It was probably better that they thought that rather than knowing the truth.

"Ok. Well, good bye Hermione." Isobel said with finality.

She did not wait for Hermione to respond, turning on her heel and striding back up to the castle.

Hermione was left standing, staring at the patch of snow Isobel had just stood on.

Her friend was not usually so demonstrative and Hermione resolved to talk to her on Saturday night when the female members of the _tovarasi _had their usual dinner together.

But on Saturday, Isobel seemed normal. Again, not happy but fine enough. Hermione watched the girl with suspicion, but didn't know what else she could do aside from keep an eye on her.

She hoped that if anything was really wrong, Isobel would come to her.

* * *

Hermione worked for the remainder of the weekend and was sad to finish her shift on Sunday. As she was closing the doors of Flourish and Blotts on Sunday evening, preparing to lock up, Malfoy slipped inside. He was soaked through from the rain that was pouring down on Diagon Alley.

"I have something." he said in a low voice, gesturing towards the bag slung over his shoulder. Hermione nodded and beckoned for him to follow her.

She said a hurried good night to Graham and rushed up the spiral stairs and into her flat, Malfoy following her.

Once inside, he dug into his bag and pulled out a large, leather bound book, handing it to Hermione.

"And this is?" she asked, staring at the cover which boasted no title.

"A book on blood magic from the Manor." he said, moving past her and into the kitchen.

Hermione's heart lurched in excitement as she followed him. "Does it…?"

"Have the recipe for _Zeitei Otrava_? No." Hermione looked crestfallen. "But I thought it might be useful. I warn you though, it's dark. Very dark."

"Anti-muggle?"

He nodded. "Very much so."

Malfoy flicked the jug on and retrieved two mugs from the cupboard above the sink.

"Go sit down. I'll bring this in." he said, as if this were entirely normal.

Hermione did a double take, staring at Malfoy in wonder before he shooed her with a waved of his hand and she turned to go and collapse in the couch.

He had _never _made her tea before. It was always her who fixed them beverages. She came to the conclusion that he must be comfortable enough in her flat now to feel free to rifle through her cupboards. Hermione didn't know if she liked that.

Malfoy joined her a moment later, handing her a cup of tea and dropping to the floor in front of the coffee table. Hermione curled her legs under her and took a sip.

"It's not sweet enough." she grunted but continued to drink it all the same.

Malfoy began dragging rolls of parchment out of his bag, along with a quill, a bottle of ink and a few heavy looking textbooks. Hermione raised her eyebrows in question.

"Charms essay." he said simply and she nodded.

She lay back on the couch and propped the book Malfoy had given her up on her chest. She began to read.

He wasn't exaggerating; it was a dark book, nothing like _Bastet's Line_. She struggled through the first few chapters, which detailed how best to harvest blood from unsuspecting victims, and had to restrain herself from vomiting when she got up to chapter six which described many potions that could only be brewed or cast with the aid of muggleborn blood, taken by force. Apparently the author felt that the fear in the blood was a necessary occurrence for successful potion making.

After reading for an hour or so, Hermione began to feel her muscles cramping. Her mind ached and squirmed from the content she'd been filling it with. Unfortunately, she had so far found nothing that she thought might be helpful when it came to the _Zeitei Otrava_.

She stretched her legs out on the couch, feeling her joints click and groan. As she sat up, rubbing the back of her neck, she set the heavy book on the coffee table, feeling very much as if she'd had enough for the night. She wanted to set it on fire.

Hermione sensed Malfoy shift silently on the floor in front of her, he himself slumped on his side, sheets of parchment strewn all around him. She listened as his quill went back to scratching and sighed, picking up her cold tea and taking a sip.

The darkness of the night was permeating the room and the darkness of the book was festering in her head. She needed conversation. She needed to begin forgetting some of the things she'd been reading.

Malfoy cleared his throat, pre-empting her before she could speak, and she looked across at him. She found him sitting up and looking at her curiously.

"What?" she asked.

"I have a question." he replied.

She mentally prepared herself for the borage of inquiries he no doubt had about what she thought of the book he'd given her. "Ok."

He took a breath and Hermione thought for a moment that he seemed slightly nervous.

"Did you and Weasley ever sleep together, Granger?"

She gaped unattractively. This was the very first personal question he had ever asked her. Really. He'd never even greeted her with a 'how are you?' before, and now he was questioning her about her sex life? Where was this coming from? She wondered if perhaps this was another one of his experiments.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Please don't call him Weasley like that Malfoy."

"Why?" he asked innocently.

"Because you make it sound like an insult."

He shrugged and said matter-of-factly, "I don't like him."

"I know that. But you don't like me either and you're studying in my house. Just remember that he's someone I care about… _Cared_ about." she corrected, her stomach lurching and pain filling up her heart. Hermione got up and walked into the kitchen, taking her tepid cup of tea with her. She pitched it down the sink and filled a glass from her cupboard with water from the tap.

She didn't like this conversation. She wanted out. He was triggering so many different parts of her she could barely keep up with them. She walked shakily back into the lounge room and sat down on the couch, staring at him seriously.

"Why are you asking me something like that?" she asked warily.

He shrugged, "Because it suddenly occurred to me that you two might have done it and I was curious."

Curious? How was he suddenly curious about her past? About her? After they'd been working side by side for months, _now _he wanted to know something relevant to her life?

Malfoy was looking at her expectantly. When she continued to glare back suspiciously he rolled his eyes. "Stop analysing it Granger. What's the problem?"

"I can't tell _you_ something like that." said Hermione uncomfortably.

"Why?"

"Because you're… Malfoy. You're…" she couldn't think of how to finish her sentence without making him angry.

"What? A death eater?" he asked, suddenly defensive.

"No! I wasn't going to say that!"

"You were thinking it." he said shrewdly.

"I was not!" she growled stubbornly. But that was exactly what she was thinking. Up until this point their relationship had been clinical, easy. Hermione had no difficulty being detached and scientific with Malfoy, _that _was justifiable, but sharing things like this? That just wasn't. That made them more than colleagues and took them into territory that Hermione didn't even want to think about. And the exact reason she did not want to think about it, was because he was a death eater.

"So just tell me then. Have some faith, Granger."

Hermione knew him. He would push and manipulate and prod and insult until she finally told him what he wanted to know. So she decided to just give in to it. It didn't matter in the end _what _he knew about her, she could still keep him at arm's length.

She sighed, "Alright… No. We didn't. There was no opportunity."

Malfoy frowned. "You lived with him for over a year. How was there no opportunity?"

She shivered and said quietly. "He didn't want to."

"Why?" asked Malfoy brutally. When she seemed disinclined to answer, he spoke again. "Just try honesty for a change, Granger. Get ugly."

She thought about that sentence for a moment. _Get ugly_. Alright, he wanted ugly? She'd give it to him.

"I will if you will." she said challengingly. She could beat him at his own game. He had hard questions for her? Well she had even harder questions for him.

Malfoy glared at her for a moment, his mouth a thin, hard line. "You first."

"Fine." she took a breath, "I think that our relationship only began because he had an attack of, 'well we're going to die anyway, may as well'. After the war, it lasted for a bit and we seemed happy… We did… _other things,_ but we didn't ever have sex. After a little while… It all stopped, he just went cold. Don't ask me why because I don't know. He wouldn't speak to me, wouldn't look at me, wouldn't touch me."

"Did you want him to touch you?" asked Malfoy, an intensity in his voice that Hermione couldn't quite define.

She scoffed and crossed her arms, "Of course I did! I'm a woman, Malfoy. I have felt desire, you know. And yes, I desired him. Very much."

Malfoy stared at her for a moment and she held his gaze. She didn't have any idea what this line of questioning was about but she wasn't going to back out now. He looked back at his discarded essay and twitched the parchment towards him.

Hermione laughed, "You're not getting off that easy. Now, I have a question for you."

Malfoy nodded without looking at her, as if resigned to his fate.

"Have _you_ ever had sex?" she asked.

Malfoy shook his head stiffly, "No. Never."

"Have you done anything else?" she pressed.

He glared at her, "That's more than one question."

"You asked me more than one. Just answer it." said Hermione stubbornly.

He sighed, "No. Never."

Hermione's eyes widened, "But I thought… Pansy…"

"That's exactly what she wanted everyone to think." he scoffed.

Hermione thought for a moment, and then said wryly, "Are you gay?"

"No, Granger, I'm not gay." he deadpanned.

"Then how…?"

He held up a hand, "Ok, I think you've filled your quota for questions asked. I've another one for you." he leant forward on the table, propped up on his elbows. "Why aren't you with your parents?"

Hermione wanted to rip his throat out. She shook her head. "I don't want to answer that." Malfoy gave her a knowing look that called her on her cowardice. "Fine. I don't want to face them." she said through gritted teeth.

"Why?" he asked in a low voice. More challenge.

Hermione clenched her fists and stared down her nose at him. "I had to damage their minds Malfoy."

"I'm aware of that. What makes you think they wouldn't want to see their own daughter?"

Hermione felt her heart kneeling down, it throbbed. "Because they _ran _in _fear _from me. The last thing they saw me do was raise my wand to them, telling them that I had to wipe their memories, make them forget me. They didn't want to. They refused! I tried reasoning with them… It didn't work. So I told them they had no choice. My mother ranfrom me. I had to stun her. It hit her right between her shoulder blades as she was running through the back door and she fell on the steps. She broke her nose. I had to mend it… And my father, he was screaming at me, he was scared. Her blood was everywhere. I had to stun him too… They won't want to know me after all of that! They're better off in Australia without the memory of running in fear from their only daughter."

Her voice was cold and hard and she held Malfoy's gaze throughout her explanation. But inside, her emotions were crashing against the walls of her mind. She had never, _ever_, told another living soul that information. No one knew.

Except for Malfoy.

"I don't think that's true. If your parents love you, they'll understand. When they come back and see the damage the dark lord did… They'll get it." his voice was soft, reassuring. Hermione supposed he was trying to help, but it didn't. She didn't want his pity. She wanted his face connecting repeatedly with her fist.

Hermione shook her head, her eyes closed, determined to keep control of her emotions. "No. I can't bring them back. If anything, I just wish I had a way of knowing they're ok. Even if they are just Wendell and Monika Wilkins. I'd like to know they're alive and safe."

"He didn't know where they were, Granger." said Malfoy, understanding exactly where her thoughts were leading.

Hermione nodded. The silence hung around them like a wet blanket but Hermione hadn't finished with him. She had her own ugly question prepared as it had been roiling about in the back of her mind every since she'd seen him that day all those months ago in Diagon Alley.

"I have one for you." she said ominously, a cruel undertone in her words.

Malfoy nodded, meeting her head on. "Fine."

"Why are your parents in Azkaban, while you, a proven death eater, walk free?"

Hermione expected many different answers to this. The top of her list was money, the Malfoy fortune had saved him. Next were high ranking friends, then power and manipulation, perhaps begging. The one thing she did not expect was what he said next.

"I… I testified against my father." there was no strength in his voice, no power or challenge. Only guilt.

Hermione could hear his guilt so tangibly that it may as well have been written across his forehead.

In that moment, all her barriers broke down. A tear slipped down her cheek. She had heard people say, many times, that the world was not black and white, that it was not split up into good people and death eaters. But it hadn't really hit her until right then. She realised that even if Malfoy _was _evil, even if he was bigoted and full of shit, he still had to see things and do things that would haunt him for the rest of his life. And sending his own father to prison was one of them.

Malfoy watched the tear slide down her cheek.

Was he moved by it? Hermione didn't know. But she knew that the challenge was gone. They weren't opponents now, but two people standing on a boundary line, staring out at the world that had destroyed them. Together.

Hermione opened her mouth. She would talk until she had nothing left to say, nothing left to give. And she hoped he would to.

It was time they had a real conversation.

And this was it.

* * *

The conversation lasted well into the night. At times, Hermione hated Malfoy; at others she was overcome by the ridiculous desire to hug him, to comfort him. She told him things she'd never told anyone and got the feeling he was being as equally open. The boundaries of tact and modesty had long ago been broken down between them because of their research, so she spoke to him brashly, graphically, and he spoke the same way to her. They concealed nothing from each other. Nothing was hidden. It wasn't about trust or love but curiosity, empathy and compassion. They spoke to each other as if the other person was another mystery beginning to be solved. Hermione didn't feel burdened by Malfoy's pain, she felt enlightened by it. His insight into the other side of the war showed her that she was right to trust him, right to want to be around him. Right to want this conversation.

At two am, she finally stood up, stretching, her legs numb from being curled under her for so long. She smiled at Malfoy. He smiled back.

There was peace. A truce. An understanding.

Hermione went to the kitchen and made more tea for them, then returned to the lounge to find Malfoy slumped on the couch.

"The floor was beginning to get painful." he said.

She nodded and sat down next to him, realising as she did, that this was the first time they had shared the couch. In all the months that they had been researching together, it had always been one on the couch and one on the floor.

It wasn't as if it was small, no, it was a three seater, but it felt small to her when the two of them shared it.

"So." she said.

"Yeah." he responded.

She sighed. She wanted to continue talking. But for once, she'd run out of things to say. She didn't want their peace to end, didn't want the atmosphere to disperse.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak again when suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, she felt a chaotic, incomprehensible despair take hold in her stomach and flare up through her rib cage. Despair and _yearning_. Yearning like she'd never felt it before. It was powerful and all consuming. She let out a keening cry that she could not suppress and grabbed at her throat, instantly panicking. There was no explanation for the emotion at all. One second she was feeling happy and contented, the next she wanted to kill herself. She wanted to throw herself from the balcony.

She stood up to do exactly this, when she noticed Malfoy with an arm wrapped around his stomach and his hand fisted in his hair, an expression of pure, unadulterated agony on his face.

He looked up at her, her panic reflected in his eyes.

"Do you feel it?" he gasped, his voice wretched.

Hermione nodded and her fingernails dug into her palms as another wave of pain crashed through her mind.

He jumped to his feet. "What the fuck!"

"Is it the Dividing Line?" Hermione cried, panicked.

"Did you cast _Auxilium _Granger?! Am I feeling your pain!?" Malfoy shouted as if he couldn't hear properly.

"No! I didn't cast anything! I don't know where it came from!" she sobbed.

Malfoy was grasping at his clothes as if he wanted to tear his own skin off, Hermione saw tears gathering in his eyes. She grabbed onto his wrists to stop him doing an injury to himself.

"Wait! Wait! Stop! This isn't ours! This is… Do you think… The _tovarasi_?" she said urgently.

Malfoy looked at her with dawning horror. "If we're… Then one of them must be…"

"Let's go to Blaise's. He's closest. If there's nothing wrong with him, we'll know it's something else." said Hermione, cutting across him.

Malfoy did not argue. He caught up his cloak and wrapped it around himself as Hermione hurtled into her bedroom to grab her own.

They pushed through her front door, every sound clanging in Hermione's ears as the deep despair spread through her body like a disease. They slid and tripped down the spiral staircase and ran together out of the shop, into the open.

Diagon Alley was completely dark and deserted. And eerie silence hung in the air and their breath rose in steam as it cascaded out of their mouths. She could hear her own heart beat like a war drum thudding in her ears. There were no lamps lit, no lights in windows; it was as if they had passed into a world where they were the only two people alive. Malfoy grabbed Hermione's hand in his and began running with her down towards Gringotts, in the direction of Blaise's apartment.

They pounded down the street, the sound of their shoes on the flagstones echoing through the dark street horrifically, until they reached the wizarding bank. All of a sudden, Malfoy skidded to a stop and grabbed Hermione, pulling them both into the darkness under the eaves of a shop nearby. She was about to question his action when he put a finger to his lips. She listened and heard it too. More pounding footsteps that were not their own.

To their collective alarm, Blaise rounded the corner in front of them from the other side of Gringotts. Malfoy and Hermione charged out of the shadows to meet him. He took in Malfoy's agonised expression and the tear tracks running down Hermione's cheeks.

"You feel it!?" he rasped, gasping for breath.

They both nodded.

"We were coming to your place." said Hermione, her teeth chattering.

"I was coming to you." he said. "What _is _this!?" he was wearing a look of anguish and Hermione noticed his fists were bloodied as if he'd been punching walls.

"We think it's the _tovarasi_, Blaise!" said Hermione frantically.

Blaise looked at her with dawning comprehension.

"That means…?"

"Someone's hurt or… I don't know. We have to go to Hogwarts, that's where the rest of them are." said Hermione, trying to control her breathing. "Come on!"

The three of them turned as one and pounded up the street towards the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione did not wait for the boys to catch their breath; the moment she was inside the boundaries of the courtyard, she grabbed them both by the arm and turned them into darkness.

They materialised on the platform of Hogsmeade station, in snow that reached up to their knees. Blaise and Malfoy did not miss a beat, immediately beginning to sprint up to the castle, making use of the snowless road, their cloaks flying out behind them like wings. Hermione was close behind.

The three of them burst into the entrance hall and without conscious thought, ran up to the only place that made sense. None of them were surprised to hear pounding footsteps join them as they converged on the hallway outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Hermione stared around at the _tovarasi_. Padma, Eli, Ginny, Juliet, Susan and Luna all looking equally as frantic as Hermione, Blaise and Malfoy.

"Isobel!" Hermione gasped. The Slytherin was the only one missing. Abruptly, half the despair she was feeling became her own. Her hand covered her mouth as she began to cry. The rest of the group immediately made to charge down towards the dungeons where the Slytherin dormitories could be found. "Wait!" she shouted. They stopped, staring at her like she was mad.

"Juliet and Ginny, go get the headmistress. Luna and Susan, wake Teodora. Blaise and Eli, go and search for any teacher you can find patrolling the corridors. Padma and Draco, come with me."

They stared at her, as if waiting for further orders, "GO!" she bellowed.

The _tovarasi_ split up and tore off in separate directions. Hermione sprinted down towards the dungeons, Malfoy and Padma in tow.

They did not meet anyone on the way and their footsteps resonated off the stone walls. The air got colder as they descended into the depths of the castle. Malfoy took the lead and Hermione followed him gratefully. She had no idea where the Slytherin dormitories lay.

"Here!" he yelled, skidding to a halt in front of a stretch of blank stone wall. He hissed a password Hermione could not make out and the wall unfolded into itself, revealing a stone passageway. The three of them hurtled down this until it widened into the Slytherin common room, dark and foreboding.

At the far end of the room was another passageway and Hermione followed Malfoy as he dodged between low backed dark green and black sofas and regally carven tables. Lining the passageway were fourteen doors, parallel to each other. Malfoy led them to the very end of the hallway.

"It's that one." puffed Malfoy. "I can't go through it."

Hermione yanked open the door he was pointing at. Inside the room were three beds. One was empty.

Hermione ignored the other two girls in the room, who began to stir and sit up, staring at the intruder, bleary eyed. She wheeled out into the passageway.

"She's not here." she gasped to her companions.

"Fuck!" Padma swore.

"Where _is _she?!" Hermione hissed to herself.

"Let's go back to the Defence classroom, see if anyone else has found her." said Malfoy.

The three of them ran back through the common room and down the passageway leading to the stone door. They traced their path back up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to find, upon their arrival, that the door was open.

Inside, the rest of the _tovarasi _were gathered with Teodora, Professor Slughorn and Professor McGonagall who was wearing a tartan house coat.

"Was she there?" asked Juliet frantically.

Hermione shook her head.

"_Rahat_!" Teodora hissed.

The room hung in silence, the group looking around at each other frantically.

"We have to think!" cried Luna, her hands in her hair. "Where else could she be!?"

"Her family own a manor." said Professor McGonagall, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Wasn't it seized by the Ministry?" asked Blaise.

"I don't know." she responded helplessly.

"Where is it?" asked Ginny.

"Gloucestershire I believe." said Professor Slughorn huskily, his wide, frightened eyes sweeping the room.

"Well, we'll go there!" cried Padma, "What's the address?"

Hermione began to feel very cold. She pulled her cloak around her tightly, and breathed into her cupped hands. There was no fire in the classroom for her to stand by so she pulled out her wand to cast a warming charm. Before she could, her feet suddenly stung and ached as the freezing cold seemed to converge in her toes. She frowned at her boots. The cold travelled up her legs slowly, despite her long socks and jeans. She rubbed her arms in an attempt to encourage circulation. Her teeth began to chatter as the cold hit her arse and stomach. Every inch of her was shaking. It hit her chest and took her breath away completely. She opened her mouth mutely. She couldn't breathe.

She looked up, about to ask for help, only to notice that every other member of the _tovarasi _was in the same position. Hands at their throats, coats pulled tightly around them.

The three teachers appeared unaffected.

"What _is_ this?!" choked Malfoy.

"I can't feel my legs." whispered Luna.

"Why is it so c-c-cold?" asked Juliet, wide eyed with panic.

Hermione looked down at her hands. Red and bleeding crescent marks covered her palms where her nails had dug into them. Her skin was mottled blue and purple as if it was submerged in cold water.

Cold water.

She gasped.

"The lake!" she shouted. The heads around her shot up to look at her.

"Oh no." whispered Teodora.

Hermione turned on her heel and ran. She ran like she had never run in her life, as if Voldemort himself was grasping at the hem of her cloak. She was vaguely aware of the footsteps echoing behind her but she outstripped them.

Only she knew what had happened. Only she had been where her friend was now. Only she knew how it would end.

She couldn't lose another one. Isobel may feel like she was of no more value to anyone, a dead death eater's daughter, but she was valuable to Hermione. Hermione needed her.

And she'd never told her.

She reached the entrance hall and charged out into the snow. The cold soaked through her jeans but made no difference to her, she wasn't feeling it anyway. The wind stung her face and howled in her ears along with her own heartbeat.

It was a keening wail accompanying the drums of war.

She pushed on, panting with the effort of dragging her legs through the snow. It hurt to breathe. She couldn't stop even if she'd wanted to. Isobel was there somewhere, and Hermione would find her. No matter what she had to do.

The moon bathed the snow in blue and the lake shone in front of her like a diamond in the night as she approached its bank. Her eyes caught sight of a darker patch about a hundred metres to her left. She ran towards it.

She saw that a portion of the frozen lake had been melted leaving a gap of dark black water around the size of a large room.

In the middle of it lay Isobel. Naked except for her underwear, blue with cold and very still, floating face up with her eyes closed. The light of the moon blurred the flaws of her skin and Hermione almost choked with the poetic beauty of the scene.

She began tearing off her clothes, piece by piece. She heard ripping sounds as she cast them away from her body in an animalistic rage. A person skidded to a halt beside her and screamed. She ignored them.

She kept her eyes locked on Isobel and stepped into the black, bottomless water, clad in nothing but her bra and underwear.

She felt like she was going to die. The cold bit into her like knives, tearing at her skin. She waded in up to her waste. No one stopped her.

The bank was silent.

Hermione dived.

Every part of her, mind, body and spirit screamed in agony. She'd never felt cold like this before. She'd never felt despair like this before.

She sobbed uncontrollably as breath was torn from her body.

She wouldn't give into it. She'd get to Isobel.

Hermione surged through the water in an awkward breast stroke, her arms reaching out to touch her friend. Her hand closed around Isobel's naked upper arm.

She wanted to let go immediately. Her stomach turned and she screamed, forcing her hand to stay connected with the girl's skin. It was cold and hard, like a wax model. Hermione didn't want to touch it. She wanted to be as far away from it as humanly possibly, far away from the feeling. She wanted it wiped from her memory. She wanted Isobel's softness back, her warmth. But there was none.

Hermione bit her tongue hard and looped her arm around Isobel's torso, the cold girl's skin sliding slimily over her own. Hermione's hands caught in Isobel's long blonde hair as she kicked them back towards the bank, the rest of the _tovarasi _black silhouettes in the night.

Her feet found the bottom and she shifted Isobel to pull her up against her chest.

Hermione stopped. All thought was gone from her mind; there was no feeling, no reaction, only a horrific screaming that echoed faintly through the empty cavity where her psyche once was.

This was not Isobel, it wasn't her best friend. It was a body. There was no life left in it.

Hermione held the dead girl in her arms, their naked skin intermingling under the water. Toe to toe, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. Hermione couldn't move, couldn't let her go. She could only stare into Isobel's blank, lifeless face.

There was no heartbeat against her breast, no pulse under her hands.

Distantly, Hermione heard splashing. Isobel was wrenched from her arms but she continued to stare at the empty space, at her blue, mottled hands under the dark water.

"Hermione!" someone was calling her, begging her, "Hermione _please_! Come out of the water!"

Hermione made her legs move. The water level dropped as she walked slowly towards the bank. When it reached her lower thighs, she dropped to her knees with a splash, unable to make her limbs work any longer. The cold of the water was numbing now, she almost felt warm, she was sleepy.

She could sleep, like Isobel slept. She could turn around and dive, swim out under the ice where no one would get to her and fall away surrounded by the cold, lifeless black.

Arms that were so hot they almost burned her skin clamped around her waist and dragged her to her feet. She made no effort to try and stand. For the second time in his life, Draco slipped one arm behind her knees and the other under her shoulder blades and pulled her up to cradle her against her chest.

She was vibrating so badly he could barely keep a hold of her. She did not make a sound as the night air struck her skin, stinging like acid. She felt as if her flesh must be falling from her bones in chunks, the pain was so intense.

Malfoy wrapped her tightly in her own cloak once they reached the shore. She looked up at him.

"Draco. She's dead. I didn't save her." she rasped. "Her body… Empty…"

Hermione felt her eyes drifting closed. She was quite comfortable really, despite Malfoy's jostling her. She could hear only his breathing, the beat of his heart and the beat of his footsteps and it all served to sooth her. This was a nice place to sleep, not in the lake. The lake where dead girls slept. She could fall away right here with the smell of Malfoy's cologne in her nostrils and his hair tickling her face.

"Granger! Are you fucking stupid! Don't go to _sleep_!" Malfoy snarled, slapping her cheek hard.

She opened her eyes to see Malfoy's face above her, silhouetted against the sky. He looked so sad, so broken.

Had she been broken before? Had the war broken her? Oh no, the war was fun really, compared to the lake. In the end, they gotten what they'd fought for, they'd won. There was no victory in this. Isobel's death was not noble or poetic. It was ugly and soul destroying. Fred, Remus, Tonks, they'd died for what they'd believed in. But not Isobel, she'd died for the world's mistakes. And she'd be forgotten. There would be no monument or memorial. But Hermione would not forget her. She'd had something with Isobel, something tangible and real. She'd had something more than a sister, more than a friend, more than a comrade. She'd had a soul mate. And she'd given it away because she was too caught up in her own pain, her own life. She'd been too stupid to see Isobel's slipping away.

Hermione would remember.

She hadn't known broken until right then. That pristine moment as she lay on the bank of the lake, her skin blue and her mind shattered with the sounds of wailing and screaming all around her and Malfoy's hands on her body, rubbing her numb limbs back to life.

He needn't bother. There was nothing inside them anymore. The lake had sucked it all out, like a Dementor. She stared up at the sky. The stars. The moon.

Someone was saying something to her, there was chanting in her ears. But she didn't hear it. She was already shutting down.

The chasm at the very bottom of her mind filled to the brim, pieces of herself cascading over the edge, into nothingness. She was gone.

And she knew, somewhere on the bank of this lake, the lake that lay next to her last true home, lay her dead best friend who's skin felt like cold, raw meat. The blood of which was still all over Hermione's body. And always would be.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

PARAMETRES

_"However invincible you imagine yourself to be, you are wrong."_

The first thing Hermione felt was warmth.

She noticed the quiet. There were hushed voices murmuring a long way away.

A warm, yellow light was tapping on the outside of her closed eyelids. The sun.

She was comfortable. The world was soft. So soft that she wanted to melt back into it. She wanted to go back to sleep.

Then something crawled through the fog like some kind of grotesque, half decayed monster. The memory hit her.

Cold skin. Freezing, black water. Her hands tangled in yellow hair. No pulse, no heartbeat.

_Isobel._

Hermione opened her mouth and screamed so loudly that it burnt her throat. The sound was cut off abruptly as, in a fierce, desperate attempt to save itself, her mind fled her body.

The world faded to black again.

* * *

"Granger?"

Someone was shaking her. She knew that voice. She knew her name on that tongue.

"Granger, wake up."

The shaking got rougher. It made a bell in her head clang painfully. Hermione opened her eyes if only to make the clanging stop.

There was Malfoy, ghostlike and tired. And beyond him a ceiling she'd recognise anywhere. She was in the hospital wing. The light was candle light now. It was night.

"Can you hear me?" he said, his voice almost a whisper. He kept looking over his shoulder like he wasn't supposed to be there.

Hermione didn't respond, instead she just looked into his cold, grey eyes. He looked tired, he looked like she felt.

Then he said something that made her spirit contract and burn inside her body.

"Granger. You saved her." he waited for her to say something. She didn't. "Isobel is alive."

He pointed to something to the left of her bed.

Hermione turned her head. A few cots along, there was something there. Hermione pulled back her sheets and sat up slowly, never taking her eyes off the something, as if it might disappear in a puff of smoke if she looked away. Her feet swung out of her bed and touched the cold, stone floor. She stood.

Malfoy moved to her side, his hand hovering by the small of her back, letting her know he was ready to catch her should she fall. She began to hobble down the ward, her feet slapping on the floor.

Hermione reached the something and her breath stopped.

It was Isobel. No longer blue, no longer lifeless. Her chest was rising and falling peacefully, blonde hair fanned out around her head like a halo.

Blankly, Hermione extended her hand to lay a fingertip on Isobel's forearm. It wasn't cold or wet or hard. It felt like Isobel always felt. Like a person, not a body.

She delicately and slowly drew back the blankets of her friend's bed and climbed into it, pressing the length of her body into Isobel's warmth. Her arm draped across her friend's stomach.

Hermione felt and heard Draco behind her, settling himself into a chair beside the bed with a sigh.

She closed her eyes and slept on, hoping she could have this dream every night for the rest of her life.

* * *

When Hermione woke again, she was alone in her bed, just as she'd expected. The hospital wing was quiet and bright with light. She could see through the windows that snow was falling softly, white noise in the air.

She lay on her side, her tears soaking the pillow under her head. She made no sound, but her grief didn't need sound, it just flowed on, like a river, noiseless and pervasive.

Hermione didn't know where her mind was, but she guessed it was somewhere drowning on the riverbed. She didn't know what to do with the desolation she was feeling. She wanted to make use of it, to hit something, fuck something, scream at something. If someone had come to her at that moment with a needle full of heroin, she would have held out her arm and begged. She needed some other kind of oblivion because the one she'd created for herself just wasn't doing the job.

This was past too much, past her endurance and her strength. She'd lost a lot. Her parents were halfway across the earth and had no idea she existed. They were lost to her. Harry was lost, Ron was lost. And now Isobel was lost.

How could fate have treated her thus? What lesson did it feel she needed to learn? Why did it insist on keeping her so alone?

Hermione did something then that she had never done in her life. She prayed.

Her hands clasped under her chin , her eyes clenched shut as tears leaked out the corners, wetting her face.

"Hello, God? It's me, Hermione…" she breathed, holding the choking sobs at bay.

And she began.

She prayed that Harry would lose his mind and find peace in its absence. She prayed that Ron would move to Tahiti and meet a simple woman who could love him and help him forget everything. She prayed Isobel was with her father, that she was at peace. She prayed that George would take his twin's soul into himself and be both of them, the world needed that. She prayed Molly and Arthur would die happy and old, far away from the pain of the war. She prayed for each and every member of her _tovarasi_, for Teodora, for Graham, for her parents, for Narcissa Malfoy, for Professor McGonagall, for Gypsy, Ebony, Noah and Felix. She prayed they would not see the things she'd seen, that their world would be joyful.

Hermione prayed that Malfoy would go back to being a bigoted arsehole. His life would be so much easier like that. Ignorance was bliss after all.

She prayed, begged, pleaded, that they would all be happy, contented, peaceful. She asked that the powers that be gave _her_ the pain they'd meant for all these people. Hermione would open up her life to accommodate it, if only she knew that they were all ok.

If she could have those things, she could deal with Isobel's death.

But if the world stayed the same, she didn't know what she could do except follow her friend.

Hermione buried her head further into the pillow as she heard footsteps and voices entering the ward through the large doors behind her. She didn't want to talk to anyone ever again. She took a few deep breaths, working to control her breathing, to seem as if she was still asleep.

As the voices drew closer, she began to make out parts of the conversation.

"I don't understand, it's been over a week."

Hermione knew that voice. There was Malfoy again. Didn't he have anything better to do?

"She will wake, in time."

That was Teodora.

"How can you be so sure?" asked Malfoy. He sounded fretful, anxious. Hermione wondered if they were talking about _her_. But they couldn't be. It hadn't been a week since… since…

"I trust her." Teodora replied simply.

More footsteps and then another voice joined them, Madam Pomfrey's.

"I've just spoken to the mind healer. He will come up and take a look at her after he's seen to the other girl." she said, in her brisk tone.

"How is she?" asked Teodora.

"Oh, better than I would have expected. She's agreed to ongoing sessions, thank Merlin. She is most eager to see her friend."

Malfoy again, "Well, why doesn't she?"

"Hermione needs to be left alone for now, I think. Her reaction to your news last Tuesday was not quite what we'd hoped for, Mr Malfoy."

"She needed to know." he said dismissively.

"Yes, well, she didn't seem to believe it though did she?" said Madam Pomfrey.

There was silence for a few moments after that. Hermione could make neither heads nor tails of their conversation but she was too deep in her pain to care properly. Whether they were talking about her or not, it didn't matter now.

When Malfoy spoke again, his voice was louder and Hermione realised he was right behind her.

"I'll stay with her." was all he said.

"Draco you must eat." said Teodora's soft voice.

"I'll eat when she does." he said forcefully.

No one responded to this statement. Hermione heard footsteps moving away from her and the rustle of parchment. The doors into the hospital wing closed with a thud and Malfoy settled himself down into a chair beside her bed. Hermione was grateful that she had her back to him, hopefully he would get bored by her persistent sleeping and go away.

"I've been reading _Bastet's Line_." he said quietly. Hermione realised he was speaking now, directly to her. "And I've been thinking. I'd like you to brew the _Virtus Lucis _for me. If you wake up." he paused for a minute, as if expecting her to grant his wish. When she didn't he sighed and continued, "I'm still looking for information on the _Zeitei Otrava _too. I went down Knockturn Alley on the weekend. There's a bookshop down there that has some pretty unsavoury stuff. I'm sure _you'd_ love it. But there was nothing on the potion. I checked at home too, but the Manor's library is just full of more stuff like the book I gave you the other day. Don't give up hope though… We'll get that recipe, even if we have to go to Romania for it."

His words her stilted, awkward, like he wasn't really thinking about what was coming out of his mouth. He sank into silence for a while and Hermione felt a rush of confusion. Why was Malfoy sitting by her bed? Didn't he realise that even if she was conscious, she didn't want to talk to anyone? Didn't want anyone around her? The sound of his voice grated on her raw nerves. She'd rather be alone, kneeling at the altar of the cathedral in her mind, mourning the dead and the living. Mourning the people she'd lost.

But he didn't go away. He kept right on talking.

"Everyone's been asking about you. The _tovarasi_ doesn't seem to work without you around. They miss you." he said and then suddenly laughed sarcastically, "I don't know what you do to make people care for you the way they do, Hermione."

More silence. Then…

"I know Isobel misses you…"

Hermione opened her eyes. "Don't talk about her like she's alive." she rasped.

The chair he occupied scraped caustically on the stone floor and Malfoy suddenly appeared in front of her. There were dark rings under his eyes and his face had a gaunt look to it. He yanked at her hands, holding her wrists in his fists. His grip was tight. It hurt.

"She is, Granger! She _is _alive!" he said fiercely, urgently.

Hermione shook her head minutely and closed her eyes. He was lying. She wanted to go back to sleep.

"No! Don't you dare shut me out!" he growled savagely.

He dragged her into a sitting position roughly, the sheets falling away from her body. Hermione whimpered and struggled but he held firm. Her head spun strangely as blood rushed to her face. He stared into her eyes, his large hands still wrapped around her wrists. There was a vein pulsing in his neck.

"_Listen to me_! If you ever listen to anything I say then, for the love of god, listen to this! Isobel. Is. Alive!"

A tiny flame of hope flared inside Hermione's heart. The pain in her wrists from his grip was real. His breath on her face was real. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a dream.

"How?" she asked, her voice scraping against her throat. "She was so cold…"

"Of course she was fucking cold, Granger. You'd just pulled her from a frozen lake! You were _both_ cold!"

Hermione shook her head, trying to clear it of the sleepy fog that was blanketing her senses, "Don't understand."

Malfoy released her wrists and laughed harshly.

"How you ever got to the top of our year, I'll never know. Use your head, Granger! What do you think killed Isobel? Hypothermia? Because that's the only thing she could have gotten from being submerged in icy water… I don't know what your perception of it was but she was only in there for, what? Ten minutes? People don't die from hypothermia in ten minutes."

Hermione felt overwhelmingly tired again, and still confused. She'd been so sure…

"I don't believe you. If it had only been that long, why didn't she wake up when I grabbed a hold of her?"

Malfoy looked slightly uncomfortable. He stood and went to stand by the foot of her bed, resting his hands on the iron bar at her feet.

"She took a sleeping potion before she went in."

"Oh." said Hermione, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. This knowledge had only confirmed what she already knew, it had indeed been an suicide attempt. Hermione stared into his eyes.

"Tell me everything." she ground out.

Malfoy held her gaze for a moment before he began pacing in front of her, hands in his pockets.

He proceeded to tell her of how he had pulled her from the lake, of how she had told him Isobel was dead and he'd believed it at first, until he'd heard the younger girl coughing and Teodora muttering frantic incantations, her wand waving over Isobel's body. He'd tried to tell Hermione that she'd been wrong but Hermione was already catatonic. Not long after that she had passed out, despite his efforts to keep her awake. The teachers and the _tovarasi_ had taken her and Isobel up to the hospital wing where Padma, Madam Pomfrey and Teodora had worked frantically to stabilise both girls who had chronic hypothermia. Isobel had woken up the following day, but Hermione had fallen into a sort of coma much to the distress of those around her.

"That was a week ago." he finished with a sigh.

"What day is it?" asked Hermione in consternation.

"Monday, December 9th." he replied.

Hermione gawked at him. She had been sleeping for a whole week?

Malfoy laughed, "You can be pretty stubborn you know. Teodora says she thinks you went into the _long sleep_, as she calls it, all on your own. Apparently there was no other medical explanation for it."

Hermione nodded, yes that did sound like her. After a moment, she looked up at him again, "Did anyone find out why Isobel did it?" she asked, her voice strained. She didn't particularly want to know the answer but not wanting to know is what had led her to ignore Isobel's original distress, for which she would never forgive herself.

"I think it's probably best if I let Isobel tell you that herself." said Malfoy sternly.

Hermione nodded sombrely. Strangely, she still felt tired. She wanted Malfoy to leave so she could go back to sleep. She didn't know how to feel. All of the previous emotions were still roiling around in her body, the grief and despair were still at large. Those were not feelings that could be easily discarded. Somewhere, waiting in the wings, behind a little ray of hope was an insane, manic happiness. But Hermione wasn't going to let that particular beast out of its cage without irrefutable proof in front of her eyes. She knew Malfoy wasn't lying and she wasn't dreaming, logically those things made sense in her head. If she thought about it, she should have known that Isobel had survived, really. Harry had dived into an icy pool to retrieve the sword of Gryffindor last year, and he'd been fine.

But for some reason none of this was reaching her heart. There was still a blanket of sleepy fog hanging over her mind, dulling her sharp intellect. She didn't _feel_ what Malfoy was saying. No matter how fervently he tried to tell her Isobel was alive, she knew she wouldn't properly believe it until she could wrap her arms around her best friend and feel Isobel's heart beat against her breast.

These ruminations reminded her of something.

"I had a dream about you." she said abruptly to Malfoy who had collapsed into the chair beside her bed that he had previously occupied.

"Oh?" he smirked, "Should I be concerned?"

Hermione ignored him. The dynamic of their relationship had changed somehow and she found she couldn't just roll her eyes at his sardonic humour right then. There were too many other things cluttering up her mind space.

"You woke me up and you told me Isobel was alive. She was here in the ward and I went to her." Hermione turned her head away from Malfoy to stare down the hospital wing towards where Isobel had slept in her dream. "I got into bed with her. It was so lucid. I could feel her skin and smell her hair…" her voice was distant as the memory presented itself to the forefront of her mind for perusal.

"That wasn't a dream." he said. "That happened two nights after the lake."

Hermione looked at him, seeing again how tired he seemed. He looked about ready to pass out in his chair.

"Why were you there? It was night… Why were you by my bed?" she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

To her surprise, Malfoy shifted in his chair uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes. After a moment he stood.

"I should go and inform Teodora you're awake. She'd want to know."

He did not wait for Hermione to respond, simply striding out of the hospital wing without a backwards glance.

Hermione knew she should have been completely perplexed by his behaviour but she didn't have the room in her head. Malfoy could do whatever he liked, right then she ceased to care. There were too many other things to think about.

Once she was alone again in the ward, she swung her legs out of the bed. As tired as she was, her body was aching with atrophy and she wanted to stretch out some of her muscles. The stone floor was cold under her bare feet. She looked down and saw, to her gratitude, that someone had put her in her favourite quidditch jersey. The only thing she wore on her bottom half was her underwear but the jersey hung low enough to cover the parts of her that she was most modest about.

She pattered over to one of the long windows on the far side of the ward, stumbling now and then, her legs weak from disuse. The window overlooked the lake. Hermione stared down at it, her head resting on the ice cold glass.

It all felt like a dream. In fact, she felt as if she were in a dream right now. Her last memory before her _long sleep_ had been so chaotic, so distraught. It seemed unnatural and wrong that she was in a place so peaceful now. The ward was quiet and warm. It didn't feel right. Her mind and emotions were in chaos.

She wanted to go home, she wanted to get out of this place. She needed some stability right then. Hermione was a very literal person really, and emotions weren't literal at all. She was sick of dealing with figurative concepts and feelings. And _everything_ inside her mind was figurative. Hermione used to believe only in what she could see and touch. But that had changed somewhere along the way. It was this eventuality that had led her to sink into despair and believe Isobel was dead. She'd let her emotions lead her, not her head.

"It's time to believe in what you know," she said quietly to herself as she stared down at the lake.

But what exactly did she know now? It had been easy to know things during the war, everything was so black and white, or if it wasn't she hadn't realised. People were dying left front and centre, people didn't survive. Naturally, she would have assumed Isobel hadn't either. Black or white. You lived or you died. There was no in between, no healing from an injury. Harry seemed to be the only exception to that particular rule.

Now, in the post-war maelstrom, nothing was as it seemed, everything and everyone had a trigger hidden somewhere and she had no idea who her friends were anymore. She was walking through her life blindfolded.

So perhaps it was time she started establishing certain things in her own mind. She couldn't articulate what she knew at that point, but she'd work damn hard until she could. She would believe in what she knew. She didn't need strength to be strong. She was going to accept, properly, where she was at. And all the other applicable affirmations.

Hermione's contemplation of the window pane and her inner thoughts were suddenly interrupted as the door to the ward swung open and a small sea of people cascaded into the room. She instantly wanted to cringe down and hide under a bed until they all went away. Panic was burning up her spine. But she remained standing, simply cowering slightly into the bad behind her as if she hoped it might swallow her up.

The eyes of her _tovarasi_, minus Isobel and Malfoy, swept the ward until they found her standing by the window. As one, they immediately began rushing towards her, each grinning widely and shouting words of greeting. Hermione felt weak at the knees.

Teodora brought up the rear, puffing slightly. "Wait! Give her space!"

The group stopped short, looking sheepish. The hospital wing still rang with the sounds of their excited exclamations.

"Hi." said Hermione, waving feebly.

The _tovarasi _looked at Teodora guiltily then converged on Hermione as one and she found herself instantly buried under a crowd of people, hugging her and talking at her all at once.

She found laughter spilling out of her mouth despite the panic, despite herself.

"Hermione! It's so good to see you!"

"We were so worried!"

"Are you ok?"

Her voice didn't seem to be working. She was floundering between nodding and shaking her head dumbly as the group continued to barrage her with questions and support.

Abruptly the noise stopped. Hermione looked over the shoulders of her friends and saw Teodora, staring at her with relieved tears in her eyes. Behind Teodora was Malfoy wearing an unreadable expression. And behind him, Isobel.

She was standing in the doorway to the ward, looking frail but otherwise unhurt.

The fierce, manic happiness Hermione had been keeping under lock and key suddenly filled her body, flowing out of every pore. She smiled, wide and unabashed, and moved away from the group.

Isobel wasn't smiling. She looked scared and guilty.

Hermione stared at her for a fraction of a second as the happiness flowed right into the tips of her fingers and toes, before she ran to her friend. Isobel's face only registered shock for the merest of seconds before Hermione flung her arms around her.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks as the very real scent of Isobel's shampoo filled her nostrils.

"_I_ need you." she said so only Isobel could hear, "You're not obsolete to me."

Isobel nodded. Hermione pulled away slightly and lay a hand over Isobel's heart. She felt it thud against her palm. Even her liver was smiling.

* * *

Two hours later, Madam Pomfrey had cleared Hermione and reluctantly allowed her to leave the hospital wing, with the assurance that she would return within the day to see the mind healer that had come from St Mungos.

Hermione dissected herself from her frantically happy _tovarasi_ with difficulty, and headed up to the astronomy tower, Isobel at her side.

Blanketed by a warming charm, cloaks and scarves, the two girls sat in silence, staring out over the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione avoided looking at the lake. She could almost see the dark patch where she had dragged her friend from the water, even though it had long since frozen over and been covered with snow.

After some time, Isobel produced a small flask from the folds of her cloak. "Malfoy gave this to me."

She unscrewed the lid, took a swig and handed it to Hermione who sniffed the contents. Firewhisky. Typical.

She took a sip all the same, the liquid burning down her throat and lighting a fire in her stomach. She coughed a little and handed it back to Isobel.

The happiness she had felt hours ago had mostly evaporated to be replaced by a soul crushing fear. She didn't know what to do to help her friend now. Isobel had survived her attempt but what if she tried again?

"I feel better now, if that's any consolation." said Isobel, typically interpreting the reason behind Hermione's silence.

Hermione sighed and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to will the tears away. "But what about tomorrow? What about next week, next year? I can't be here to watch you all the time."

"I don't need you to watch me." said Isobel defiantly.

"Well, someone has to!" Hermione said desperately. "What other option is there?! You can't try and do something like that and just expect people to forget about it and move on!"

"I don't expect that! But, well, it's me isn't it? I've got to be the one who _does _something." she took a deep breath, "I'm going to see a mind healer. Once a week. Hopefully that will help."

"I need it to help." said Hermione, "I can't do that again. I can't think I've lost you again."

"Perhaps you should see one too." said Isobel quietly.

Hermione scoffed, "I do _not _need counselling."

"Oh what a fine example you lead." Isobel said bitterly.

"Look, I'm managing, alright?!" Hermione snapped.

"You were just in a self induced coma for a whole week, Hermione, I'd hardly called that _managing_."

"Yeah, well that's only because I thought my best friend had fucking _killed_ herself!"

Isobel ducked her head, her blonde hair swinging to cover her face. Hermione could see tears falling on the younger girl's cloak. She felt guilt clawing through her stomach.

"I'm sorry. That was cruel." said Hermione sincerely, scooting closer to her friend and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"S'alright," Isobel sniffed. "I understand… I reckon if you tried, I'd probably kill you myself."

Isobel gave Hermione a watery smile.

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm her roiling emotions. She decided then, to ask the million pound question.

"I'd just like to know one thing, then we don't have to talk about it anymore, ok?" Isobel nodded and Hermione continued, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to but… Why did you do it?"

Isobel looked up at Hermione and smiled reassuringly, "It's ok… I don't mind telling you… It was a lot of things. My father's birthday, the things people have been saying… Stupid stuff really. It was all my thinking, I convinced myself to do it. And honestly, I don't know that I properly wanted to in the first place. Just… Something sort of happened… And it just threw me over the edge."

Hermione looked at the younger girl seriously, "What? What happened? Did someone do something to you?"

Isobel shook her head. "No, no, nothing like that…" she suddenly brought her hands up to cover her face, "Oh, Hermione it's so stupid!"

"I'm sure it isn't. Please tell me." Hermione said kindly.

Isobel wore a pained expression on her face. "Well… I was already feeling quite bad and… Oh god, I don't know if I can say it…" she took a couple of deep breaths, "Alright. Malfoy didn't come back to the dormitory on Sunday night."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, this was not what she'd expected to hear. "What?"

"He… He didn't come back and I knew he was with you and…" Isobel stared at Hermione guiltily.

Dots began to connect in Hermione's head.

"And… You thought…? He and I?" Hermione stammered.

Isobel nodded. "It's so stupid. Spectacularly fucking stupid."

"You like him?" asked Hermione in a quiet voice. Of course, Blaise had said as much that day they'd shared breakfast. But once Hermione had actually taken the time to get to know Isobel, all her bad opinions of the girl had fallen away. She'd quite simply forgotten that little piece of information after she'd discovered that Isobel was a decent person under all of her snobbery.

"I do…" said the younger girl, pain evident in her voice.

Hermione began shaking her head fervently ,"I would never, I swear. Isobel, that is so _not_ going to happen." Never, in a million years would it happen. Hermione would rather chew glass.

Isobel sighed and gave Hermione a small smile. "It doesn't really matter now. I'm over it."

"What? You're just over it? When a week ago you were…?" she said indignantly.

"Yes." Isobel said firmly, "See, it's not about how _you _feel, Hermione, it's about how _he _feels."

Hermione laughed disbelievingly, "I can assure you, he doesn't feel anything. Not for me anyway."

Isobel did not share in Hermione's laughter, instead she just looked at her seriously, "I don't think that's true. He sat by your bed for a week, he dragged you from the lake. He wasn't bending over _me_ trying to resuscitate me, he went to _you_."

Hermione didn't know what to say to this. She felt incredibly conflicted over everything Isobel was telling her. She knew only too well the way that one little thing could tip someone over the edge, that was not difficult to understand. After all, her own attempt at self harm had happened over something as insignificant as the bad choice she'd made to hook up with George. No, what she found difficult to put in order in her head, was Isobel's feelings towards Malfoy and his apparent feelings for Hermione. She felt like she'd betrayed her friend by getting close to him. And she didn't for a second believe that Malfoy might care for her, Hermione, at all. He treated her with barely concealed disdain ninety nine percent of the time and the remaining one percent was only for when she'd made him a half decent cup of tea.

Isobel, again, accurately judged Hermione's frown. "It's alright. I don't want you to feel guilty. I don't really care what you feel for him, I'm not the jealous type. But I can see very clearly what he wants and that's what hurts." she sighed, "But like I said, I'm done with that now. I clearly have far bigger things to worry about."

Hermione nodded, feeling like this was probably true. She then remembered what Malfoy had said when she'd asked him why Isobel had tried to kill herself. _I think it's probably best if I let Isobel tell you that herself._

"You told him about it." said Hermione. It wasn't a question.

Isobel nodded.

"What did he say?" Hermione asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

"I don't think it's really my place to tell you." said Isobel quietly.

Unfortunately, this was answer enough.

* * *

A/N PLEASE READ!

Hello my lovelies!

Chapter 19 will be a special holiday chapter! It will be all Christmassy themed and I will be publishing it on the 25th. SO I have a special gift for you all. For anyone who reads and reviews Chapter 19, I will then read and review one of their Harry Potter stories! This is my gift to you!

Happy holidays!

xx


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

OVERLAP

_"I know there is strength in the differences between us; I know there is comfort where we overlap."_

The following two weeks afterwards passed relatively easily for Hermione. With Christmas approaching, the castle had begun to resemble a snow globe, groaning under tinsel and baubles and mistletoe. It being the first Christmas since the fall of Voldemort, the teachers seemed to be putting in a lot of extra effort to make Hogwarts as jovial and festive as possible. And the feeling was contagious. Hermione had splashed out and decked the inside of her flat out in little lights, making it look like a grotto for fairies.

To her joy and consternation, her flat had become a sort of hub for her _tovarasi. _Since the holidays had started a week before Christmas, Blaise, Ginny, Luna, Susan, Padma, Eli, Juliet, Malfoy and Isobel spent most of their time slumped on Hermione's lounge room floor demanding beverages and sweets like children. Hermione was forever buying milk, sugar and tea for her guests. And coke, of course, for Isobel.

She should have been stressed by this occurrence but instead she felt elated and homely. She loved that her flat was filled with boisterous conversation and tinkling laughter. It robbed her of any opportunity to spend too much time thinking and contemplating her own sadness.

It also allowed her to steadfastly avoid any one on one conversation with Malfoy.

Ever since her talk with Isobel, she had wanted nothing more than to be as far from him as possible. Every time her mind stumbled upon the possible feelings he had for her, she shied away like a kicked dog. Whatever he felt, she _really _did not want to know. She didn't want Isobel's words echoing around in her head, morning til night, she didn't want to wonder if Malfoy was ever going to outright tell her what he was thinking, and she _really _didn't want to think about what the pads of his finger pressed into her…

In essence, she didn't want to think about him _at all_. And having the rest of the _tovarasi_ around made it very easy for her to distract herself. Whenever the group was assembled together, Hermione's eyes slid right over him like he was a pot plant. She didn't look at him and she didn't speak directly to him. But despite all this, Malfoy treated her in exactly the same way as he always did. He made fun of her and put her down. However, he'd stopped complaining about the tea she made him.

Hermione was happy to see that Isobel had improved over the weeks. For a few days after Hermione had woken, Isobel had seemed tired, weak, like she found day to day life hard. Though this was, of course, understandable. After a few of her sessions with her mind healer, Hermione noticed Isobel had begun to laugh again, to settle into the rhythm of the _tovarasi_, letting them cocoon her like a precious flower. She seemed to react well to their coddling of her and Hermione was pleased that she was allowing her friends to care for her. Isobel was the sort of woman who needed people to love her, who needed to be able to love other people. She'd clearly never been given this opportunity in her earlier life and hadn't let herself sink into it before with the _tovarasi_. It healed her.

This comforted Hermione; she didn't want to worry about her friend anymore. It was exhausting. She had enough to worry about.

One cold night, with Christmas only a few days away, Hermione had said goodbye to the other members of the _tovarasi _and her and Isobel had retired to her bed to eat chocolates and talk.

"So you never told me how your appointment with the mind healer went." said Isobel, after they had settled in under the covers, Crookshanks snuggled warmly between their bodies.

Hermione sighed and popped a chocolate into her mouth. "He didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. Apparently I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder… Like that makes me different from anyone else." she said through her mouthful.

Isobel laughed, "You seeing him again?"

Hermione shook her head, "No… He suggested it but… I think I'm doing alright for now. If I can't fix myself right now, I don't think anyone can."

"Well I think you're taking the hard road but… You know, each to their own." said Isobel, shrugging.

"So what about you? You like your mind healer? What's his name again?" asked Hermione.

"Tiberius."

Hermione chuckled, and said disbelievingly, "_Tiberius_?! Well I'm glad you have someone who will understand your pureblood sensitivities!"

"Me too… Hanging around you has corrupted me. I need to find my roots!" she said dramatically.

The two girls fell back onto the bed, giggling.

Isobel hiccupped herself to silence and Hermione turned to her, "So what are you doing for Christmas?"

"Padma asked me to go back to her house with her and stay with her family."

"Oh! That's really nice!" said Hermione, pleased that Isobel had somewhere to go.

"Everyone else is going to spend time with family. Apparently Blaise is going to Paris! Can you imagine? _I _want to go to Paris." she sighed wistfully, "Anyway, what are _you_ going to do?"

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll just stay here I guess."

Isobel looked shocked, "What? You're going to be on your own for Christmas?!"

"Well I can't very well go back to the Burrow, can I?"

"I'll stay." said Isobel fervently, "You and me can do Christmas together."

"No, really. You go and spend the holidays with Padma. Honestly, I'm fine. Christmas doesn't really mean all that much to me anyway." she knew in her heart that this was a lie but she wanted a happy Christmas for Isobel and she really wouldn't be able to give her that this year. When her friend looked doubtful, Hermione plastered a smile on her face and said, "Look, if I feel that bad, I can always do Christmas at Hogwarts."

Isobel nodded but still looked sceptical.

Hermione threw a chocolate at her. "Don't give me that look. Here, eat chocolate."

Isobel giggled.

They passed the following hours, talking merrily about anything and everything. They did not shy away from hard conversation as they once had, but they also didn't press it. Hermione trusted that Isobel did all the talking she needed with her mind healer. And after all, she was hardly one to be able to offer advice when it came to emotions. She was just as much of a mess.

After a little while, the two girls fell asleep, side by side in the guttering candle light and Hermione felt happy.

* * *

On Christmas day, Hermione did everything she could think of to avoid remembering what day it was. She washed her clothes, cleaned her flat, tried to read more of _Bastet's Line_, all to no avail. A group of carol singers were marching stubbornly up and down Diagon Alley, reminding her of exactly how lonely she was. Hermione was tempted to fling open her balcony doors and tell them all to bugger off.

Every Christmas for the past five years had been fraught with stress but there had been good times too. Hermione didn't want the bad memories or the happy ones. The smell of Mrs Weasley's minced pies. She, Harry and Ron snuggled up next to the Gryffindor fire eating sweets. Sirius's voice ringing through Grimauld place as he sung carols.

Christmas in Godric's Hollow. Harry trying to hide his tears as he stood by his parent's graves. Saving him from Nagini, severing the burning Horcrux from his chest.

She didn't want to remember any of it. Every recollection, good or bad, made her feel worse and worse.

More than anything, Hermione didn't want to think of what Wendell and Monika Wilkins were doing, halfway across the globe in sunny Australia. Were they lounging by the beach or having a barbeque? Had they found themselves a new family?

Why? Why did the memories have to bash around inside her head, leaving bruises and wounds at every place they connected with? Why today?

Perhaps she could brew herself a strong sleeping potion and just pass out until the awful holiday was done with. But no, in order to do that, she'd have to go out in public to buy ingredients; she'd have to smile manically while shopkeepers wished her a merry Christmas. She didn't need that.

The day felt like it went on forever, her heart clenching and unclenching intermittently, and by late afternoon, her chest was burning.

She decided, against her better judgement, that she would go to Hogwarts, if only to avoid sobbing into her pillow for the rest of her evening. If Hogwarts didn't cheer her up, she resolved to buy a bottle of firewhisky and get properly, thoroughly inebriated.

* * *

The great hall was nearly empty when Hermione arrived, scowling, and shaking snow out of her hair, most of the students having gone home for the holidays. The whole hall was dripping with decorations despite the sparse attendance and Hermione spent a happy five minutes imagining herself playing target practice with the baubles. Every single one of the teachers were beaming festively as if they'd already had a little too much to drink. She waved at Teodora who seemed to be engaged in a rather raucous conversation with Professor Slughorn. Her teacher waved back, smiling warmly.

Hermione cast her eyes about the hall, trying to scout out somewhere to sit. She quickly realised there was only one real choice, unless she was to eat alone. And eating alone sort of nullified the point of coming the first place.

Malfoy was sitting hunched over the Slytherin table at the far end of the hall, pushing his roast lamb around his plate gloomily. She could have kicked herself. Of course he'd be there, his parents were in Azkaban and unless he'd wanted to spend a night alone at that awful Manor he called a home, then Hogwarts was really the only other place for him. She should have known.

Hermione's fierce desire to continue avoiding him warred with her need for human interaction.

In the end, her crippling loneliness won out.

"Hello." she said, sliding onto the bench next to him.

For a moment, he looked positively gleeful at her sudden arrival, but hid it quickly behind a typical smirk.

"Nice day?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Fucking brilliant." Hermione said, pulling a basket of bread rolls across the table towards her.

Malfoy tapped his chin in mock thought, "Let me guess… You spent the entire day trying to pretend that it wasn't Christmas, and ended up screaming from your balcony at carol singers like an old Irish washerwoman."

"I didn't scream at the carol singers," Hermione grunted, "Though it's not like they didn't deserve it."

Malfoy laughed.

"What about you? Must have been a nice change after Christmas with Voldemort." said Hermione wryly.

He shrugged, "Yeah… He wasn't the most festive bloke, in case you couldn't tell."

Hermione chuckled, "Well, I can't exactly picture him wearing a paper hat and pulling crackers with Bellatrix."

Malfoy gave a mock shudder, "That image is almost scarier than the reality."

Hermione laughed.

For the rest of the meal they ate in relative silence, only speaking to ask for salt or gravy. Hermione was fine with this. She was in no mood to talk, especially to Malfoy. All she wanted was to eat her emotions by stuffing her face with every available treat the Slytherin table offered and go home. She could then, at least, say she had celebrated Christmas in some small way.

By the time Hermione had finished her sticky date pudding, she was already planning to stop in Diagon Alley on her way home to acquire a large bottle of Firewhisky. Hogwarts had done absolutely nothing to lighten her mood. It only served to worsen it as she now felt fat on top of everything else.

She wiped her mouth on her napkin and set it back on the table. "Well, this has been lovely, but I'm going home to get drunk." she stood, "Merry Christmas, Malfoy."

But before she could leave the table, he reached out and laid a hand on her arm. "Wait, I'll meet you in the entrance hall. I have to grab something."

With that, he stood and left the hall, leaving Hermione thoroughly nervous. She had not invited him back to her flat, nor had she intended to do so. He hadn't given her a choice. It was such a spectacularly Slytherin move. He clearly wanted to join her at home but somehow had an inkling that she'd say no to any request to do so. So he'd removed her as a variable in that circumstance. She didn't like to have her freedom taken away from her like that.

Hermione looked up towards the staff table and waved goodbye to Teodora who winked conspiratorially in reply.

Hermione scowled as she walked into the entrance hall. Had the entire world gone mad? Why was Malfoy manipulating her? Why was Teodora winking knowingly?

The whole thing just made her tired.

She stood at the front doors, staring out over the snow covered grounds. The cold bit at her exposed skin and she drew her cloak closer around her body.

She wanted to stamp her feet like a child. Why couldn't she just be left alone for five seconds? She needed time to just _be_. Her Christmas hadn't been great so far, but she didn't want to spend the rest of it dancing around Malfoy and his confusing, phantom emotions.

"Granger." Malfoy appeared behind her, bag slung over his shoulder and holding a large, inconspicuous looking box wrapped in laughably jolly wrapping paper.

Hermione eyed the box suspiciously, "What, Malfoy, is _that_?"

"A present." he said, "Come on, let's go. It's fucking freezing."

He strode past her and charged out into the snow. Hermione had little choice but to follow him dejectedly.

They apparated back to Diagon Alley and Hermione immediately began to look around for a place to buy alcohol, any type of alcohol. Malfoy or no Malfoy, she was going to be indulging in some serious avoidance that night.

When she made to turn into a sort of general store that lay midway between her flat and the Leaky Cauldron, Malfoy stopped her.

"I already have a bottle." he patted his bag. Hermione hated how much he seemed to know her already.

"No, I need milk." she said stubbornly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes as she stuck up her nose and disappeared into the shop. Minutes later she emerged clutching a bottle of milk defiantly.

He chuckled and shook his head.

They walked in silence up to her flat. Hermione shoved the recently acquired bottle of milk into her fridge, next to the full one that was already in there. She pulled two glasses from the cupboard and joined Malfoy in the lounge room.

The moment she sat down on the couch, he presented her with the mysterious box, laying it on the coffee table in front of her.

She looked up at him wearily.

"Merry Christmas, Granger." when she didn't move or speak, he rolled his eyes, "This is the part where you open it. You do know how gift giving actually works don't you?"

Hermione scowled at him and leant forward to rip the paper off the box. With this accomplished, she lifted the lid. Inside lay a series of much smaller boxes, crammed in with an assortment of ominous looking little bottles and, to her alarm, a silver dagger.

"Why have you given me what looks like a torture kit, Malfoy?" she asked.

"It's not a torture kit. It's all the ingredients for the _Virtus Lucis_." he replied.

Hermione gaped at him, her mind blank with surprise. "But… How… Some of those ingredients are really rare!" she stammered.

"Ridiculously rare." he confirmed, looking smug at her awed reaction.

Hermione began to paw reverentially through the boxes and bottles. It was all there, powdered dragon scales, Nightshade, thorn of the dog rose, phosphorescence, syrup of Hellebore, the membrane from the egg of an Ursini's Viper and earth from a sacred site.

How he had come by these rare and priceless ingredients, Hermione would never know. That he had actually made the effort made her stomach churn uncomfortably.

When she thought about it, the gift was so true to Malfoy that she should have guessed it earlier. It was something that both played on her passion for experimental magic and potion making, and satisfied his constant need to be the centre of everything. The brewing of the potion benefited her _and _him.

Malfoy fished a bottle of firewhisky from the inside of his bag and poured a small measure of it into both glasses.

Hermione threw hers back in one go.

"Whoa, easy does it Granger, I'd rather you still had some control of your limbs while you're slicing my palms open." he said, chuckling.

Hermione choked and coughed, the liquid burning down her oesophagus, "You want to brew it _tonight_?!"

"Of course, why not? It's not like Christmas is going to get any better for either of us…"

Hermione shrugged and nodded her head in agreement. He was right. Without him in her flat, a night of drunken singing and crying was lying ahead of her. Given the choice between that and brewing a difficult and rare potion, she would undoubtedly choose the potion.

Malfoy began to pull boxes and bottles from the larger box and set them on the table between them. "It doesn't take long, does it?"

Hermione retrieved _Bastet's Line_ from under the couch where she'd hidden it. She flicked through to the relevant page and her eyes scanned the page. After a moment she said, "Nope, only about forty five minutes, I think. But he says the high afterwards is the part we need to worry about."

"Why?" asked Malfoy.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. He doesn't say. But judging by the rest of the book, I'd say the potion probably has some hallucinogenic after effects."

Malfoy looked concerned at this, but said nothing. He pulled a small brass bowl from the bottom of the larger box, set it in the middle of the coffee table and pointed his wand at it, "_Engorgio_."

The bowl grew larger and Hermione gasped, "Is that a _cazan_?"

Malfoy nodded, "Took me ages to find."

"Wow." She ran her hands over the almost lewd bulge of the shallow basin in front of her. She had been keen to try using the _cazan _ever since she'd seen one in Teodora's office.

"We're not getting any younger, Granger." grunted Malfoy after she had been studying the _cazan_ for a few minutes.

Hermione glared at him and pointed her wand at _Bastet's Line_, setting it to hover in front of her so she could read the recipe as she brewed. She conjured a floating fire to light under the _cazan _and rolled up her sleeves. The silence of her flat was marred by the sounds of sizzling and hissing as she began adding ingredients to the heated _cazan_. Malfoy watched her unceasingly, wordlessly passing her items when she asked for them.

There was something intense in his gaze that almost made it difficult to concentrate. She was aware of his face flicking between her pinched expression of concentration and her hands as they worked. It made her uncomfortable.

"Put something on, will you?" she said after fifteen minutes of this, gesturing towards the record player.

He complied without question and soon _Nirvana_ was flowing through her flat. She didn't particularly like the choice, it reminded her of her father, but the beat of the acoustic guitars was good to work to. Her fingers moved rhythmically over the ingredients, slicing and crushing, added a little of this and a little of that. She'd read _Bastet's Line _so many times that the recipe was imprinted on her memory and she had little need to look at the book.

Her face grew hot from the sweet fumes drifting out of the cauldron. Strangely, the potion smelt like honey and hazelnuts. Her hands fumbled on her knife as she sliced into an apple to retrieve the seeds of its core when Malfoy started singing softly along with the music.

_"My heart is broke, but I have some glue,  
Help me inhale and mend it with you,  
We'll float around, and hang out on clouds,  
Then we'll come down and have a hangover."_

Hermione wanted to scream at him. She wanted him to shut up. She wanted to throw him from the balcony, out into the winter. She didn't know why, but his singing was making her incontinently, chaotically angry.

His voice was soft, sweet, unlike anything she ever knew of him. He didn't speak with that voice, not to her. Perhaps if he did, she wouldn't hate him so much. And oh, how she hated him right then. With more passion that she had ever felt. He had struck her dumb.

His voice was beautiful and she _loathed _him for it.

When she looked up, ready to snarl at him, to tell him in no uncertain terms, to shut the fuck up, she found she couldn't. He looked so relaxed, at ease. He looked comfortable and Malfoy's _never _looked comfortable. She would just have to suffer in silence.

And suffer she did. He didn't stop singing and he certainly did not stop watching her.

After a little while, Hermione put it out of her mind, becoming far more engrossed in brewing the difficult potion. The instructions were precise to the point of being pedantic. She did not want to discover what would happen if she botched it. After all, she had to drink from it as well as Malfoy.

With the forty five minutes almost up and the potion bubbling merrily in front of her, Hermione finally set down her stirring rod and picked up the sharp, evil looking silver dagger. Malfoy caught her eye, looked between her and the dagger, and grimaced.

"It won't hurt that much." she said, trying to reassure him.

He shrugged in faux carelessness and placed his hands on the table top, palms facing the ceiling. He closed his eyes, scowling.

Hermione poised the dagger over his skin, ready to slice. She, herself, felt uncomfortable with what she was about to do. When Teodora had taken her blood it had hurt, it had felt wrong. She wasn't ever shy about pain but to willingly give someone else to opportunity to mar her skin…

The tip of the dagger hung over Malfoy's hands. Hermione was staring off into space over his left shoulder, something clicking into place in her mind.

"Oh my god." she breathed.

Malfoy opened his eyes, panicked, and stared down at his palms, "What?! What did you do?"

"Nothing… I… Blood magic. Teodora."

"Granger, what are you talking about?" he asked in frustration.

"She… I… She took my blood! She took my blood Draco!" The knife fell out of her hands with a clatter as she stood up. "Oh my _fucking _god! How did I not see it?! She took my blood for the _Rusine_!"

Malfoy was looking up at her with dawning understanding. "She did?"

Hermione nodded madly, "Yes!"

Malfoy laughed gleefully, "Oh shit! We can ask her about the _Zeitei Otrava_! And she wouldn't be weird about it either, not if she uses blood magic herself!"

"Yes! _And_, she's Romanian! Oh, _how _did we not think of this before?!"

Malfoy was grinning from ear to ear as Hermione paced backwards and forwards behind the table. All the dots were beginning to connect in her head. She was mentally kicking herself that she hadn't seen something so obvious right in front of her face.

"We should both ask her." she said firmly.

"Agreed."

Hermione quite literally jumped up and down for joy, letting out a small squeal. The _Zeitei Otrava_. The one thing that had her most intrigued, had most piqued her interest. The one thing from _Bastet's Line_ that she had thought she would never in her life be able to experience. And they had a lead. The recipe may just be within reach.

"I hate to rain on this parade, but I think this potion will be useless if we let it brew any longer." said Malfoy after a minute.

"Yes, you're right. Perspective." she said seriously. She seated herself back at the table, an irrepressible smile lighting up her face. Malfoy laid out his hands for her again, but this time he did not shut his eyes.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then, cupping his large hand in her small one, pressed the tip of the dagger into Malfoy's left palm, feeling it almost click as it popped into his skin. She heard his sharp intake of breath and looked up at his face to find him staring back at her intensely. Hermione looked back at the dagger in her hand and slowly drew the blade across the centre of his palm. Blood welled in the wound and began to drip down onto the table top. She moved immediately onto his right hand, repeating the process, then, as the blood rained down on the wood beneath his hands, she used her own to close the fingers of both hands into his palms and bring them together over the potion.

"Clench your fists." said Hermione quietly. He did, she felt it under hands. Without conscious thought, her thumbs began to rub soothing circles across his bloody skin as a small groan of pain left his mouth, the blood pouring from his palms and into the potion.

The _cazan_ began to let out smoky tendrils that reached up and curled, snake like and affectionate, around their hands, caressing their skin.

Tears were springing into his eyes and his fists began to shake with the effort of clenching them closed over the painful gashes in his palms. Hermione let go, her hands now covered in his blood and leant forward over the _cazan_.

"Hold them over the potion," she said in the same sombre, reverent tone, "Come closer."

Malfoy sat up onto his knees so that they were both now, leaning over the potion, their faces almost touching. Hermione lowered her hands into the blood red liquid, the sensation of it on her skin cool and subtly burning, almost like menthol. She cupped her hands and scooped up the liquid towards her mouth.

She drank.

All at once, every colour around her was heightened, intensified, bright. She wanted to drink more of the sweet, burning liquid. It was like cool honey liqueur. She felt drunk and wondered if these were the after effects Grindelwald spoke of.

Hermione dipped her hands back into the _cazan_, conscious of the dark liquid flowing freely down her chin.

"You have to drink." she said.

"From your hands?" he asked quietly, deeply.

"Yes, Draco, I have to give you the gift, remember?"

He nodded and as she raised her cupped hands to his mouth, his bloodied ones moved under to support them.

His lips touched her finger tips.

She moaned.

He looked at her sharply for a moment, as shocked by the sound as she was, before his eyes glazed and he closed them. His breathing became shallow, laboured. Hermione immediately felt alarmed, what if she'd gotten the recipe wrong? What if she'd added too many scoops of phosphorescence? Was Malfoy about to keel over dead because of her appalling potion making skills?

Suddenly, much to her relief, he laughed, low and rumbling, right from his stomach. When he opened his eyes again, the irises were blood red.

Hermione recoiled a little as his grin intensified, it became rampant, animalistic. She couldn't decide of this twisted expression made Draco more attractive, or frightening beyond belief. If she was experiencing a high from drinking it, it was nothing compared to what he must be experiencing judging by his expression.

"How do you feel?" she asked slowly, carefully.

"I feel… I feel… Luminous." he growled. There was mania in his voice. "This is… I love… I've never felt anything like it. It's as if all my magic is pooled in my hands, it burns… But the pain… This pain is fucking brilliant."

He stood slowly, staring around at her flat, at her, his eyes raking over her body. He held out his bloodied hands, cupping them in front of himself, and suddenly, a brilliant light burst to life inside them. It made the shadows of her flat dance and the light of the candles on the walls gutter and fail.

Hermione stood too, her fear forgotten. She was transfixed by the light he had conjured with his own hands, without use of a wand. She walked around the table to stand before him. The light was eerily green, like sunlight filtering through the treetops of a forest. It felt fresh and new. Fire had nothing on this light; this was built from the very centre of power, of inspiration, of sexuality. It was beyond beautiful. It was godlike, omnipresent and supreme to all other lights.

Hermione didn't know why but she had the desire to feel the light on her skin. She reached out a hand to touch it, looking up at Malfoy, wordlessly asking for permission. He nodded, his eyes on her face as her fingers pushed forward and penetrated the globe of luminosity. A soft warmth spread up her hand, curled through her chest, catlike, and settled into a knot at the very pit of her abdomen. The knot throbbed.

So many words presented themselves to the forefront of her mind, words to describe the feeling of this light, the beauty of it. But no earthly language could describe the sight. She wanted to laugh and moan and weep. She could not hold onto any feeling, any thought, they all just dripped away into the light.

Malfoy suddenly closed his palms over her hand, causing the green light to slice through the room as it seeped through the gaps in his fingers. The heat intensified, the knot in her abdomen pulsed and peaked. Pain and pleasure. Malfoy was right, the pain was fucking brilliant.

"What… What are you doing?!" she stuttered, half trying to pull her hand away from him but his grip held firm. The feeling was reaching an apex and she felt as if she was about a hairs breadth away from tumbling right over the edge. What she would find there, whether ecstasy or madness, she didn't know.

"I'm thanking you." said Malfoy reverentially. "Thank you."

His fists clenched over her hand and Hermione fell. Her knees buckled and her back arched. The knot in her abdomen burst and buried her in paradise.

* * *

A/N So this is the chapter, lovelies!

Review this one and I will read and review one of your Potter fics!

xx


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

AS IS

_"I've got no illusions about you and guess what? I never did. When I say I'll take it, I meant as is."_

Hermione was kneeling, her hands flung out in front of her body, her forehead pressed into the floor, at Draco's feet. A position of worship.

Her breath was leaving her body in strangled gasps, her legs quivering, the apex of her thighs wet.

The Dividing Line was buzzing like heavy bass under her fingertips, thudding like a heartbeat. She could feel Bastet moving through her mind lovingly, curling around every cold synapse, burning her thoughts to electricity.

Her head lifted slowly as she rose up onto her knees, to look up at Draco. "Why?" was all she said, her voice shaking.

"I… I don't know." the red gleam was fading from his eyes, the light in his hands gone out and they were bathed, again, in the roseate glow of the candles. "It was like instinct… I'm sorry." he sounded mildly panicked and leant down to help her to her feet.

"Don't touch me!" she growled, recoiling from his outstretched hands, still covered in blood. She dragged herself to her feet. "I want you to _get out _of my house." she snarled.

He held his hands up in supplication, "Hermione, wait… I…"

She cut him off, "Don't you _dare_ call me by my first name! I haven't many possessions to give away at my will but _that _is one of them!" her finger jabbed into the air in front of her as she spoke, "You knew I wouldn't want that! How fucking dare you humiliate me!"

"I did nothing of the sort! It was instinct, I didn't know what I was doing!" he bit back, his voice raising an octave.

"GET OUT!" Hermione bellowed, planting her hands on his chest and pushing him forcefully towards the door to her flat. He stumbled slightly as he was forced backwards.

"Fine!" he regained his balance and caught up his cloak and scarf, "Heaven forbid you let anyone in, Granger! Rot in your sadness for all I care! Merry fucking Christmas!" he roared, flinging open her front door and slamming it behind him.

Hermione stared at the closed door, her chest heaving as she listened to his steps thud across the landing and down the spiral staircase. She felt humiliated beyond belief. To be so vulnerable in front of him, her emotions so naked, was unthinkable. She had tried and tried to keep their relationship professional, unfeeling, but he just kept fucking up her plans. He'd asked her all those personal questions, drawn her into having _the _conversation with him. He'd pulled her from the lake and then sat by her bed for a week. And now he'd gone and done this. If what Isobel said was true, and he _did _have feelings for her then this was most certainly the wrong way to going about expressing them. It was just so _Slytherin. _

Embarrassed tears soaked her cheeks as, with a howl of rage, she stomped into her bathroom and flung off her clothes. Steam billowed out from behind the shower curtain as the hot water cascaded out of the shower head. Hermione stepped under the scalding downpour and scrubbed her body of the potion, of his blood, of the memory of his lips on her fingertips and the warm wetness between her thighs.

* * *

Two days later, she still could not stop herself thinking of him, his parting words echoed and clanged around inside her head jarringly. What had he meant about her not letting anyone in? Had he expected her to let _him _in? The thought was laughable. She hadn't shown any outward signs that she valued his company at all. She didn't flirt with him, she didn't laugh with him, and she most certainly was not affectionate with him.

Though, she did not spare a single thought for what he'd done to her, there was nothing to think about. In Hermione's mind, it was almost tantamount to sexual assault and was therefore meaningless, deserving only her disgust and disdain.

In the end it was not her bodily reaction that bothered her, that made it hard for her to sleep, but the feeling of his magic _inside _her and his large hands wrapped around her small one, cocooning it. Whether he intended to or not, and Hermione firmly believed that his claim that it was unintentional was complete bullshit, he had _pushed_ his essence into her body. It had been a conscious action, she'd felt the awareness around his magic. It was like his hands were pawing through her organs, her blood and muscles. That's what had caused the thing that she would continue to steadfastly deny was an orgasm.

She had not heard anything from him in the intervening days and for this, she was ridiculously grateful. She wouldn't be at all disappointed if she were to never speak to Malfoy again for the rest of her life.

A nagging little voice reminded of their research and progress, but she ignored it. It reminded her of the _Zeitei Otrava_, a potion that could only be brewed by two people, and only then did Hermione feel a pang of loss. She was almost preparing herself to write to him, suggesting that perhaps they put the past behind them and keep going.

But then she reminded herself that he would never do such a thing for her, not in a million years. And what he done was unforgivable.

At lunchtime two days after her disastrous Christmas, she sat enjoying a meal of fried fish and chips, acquired from an obliging muggle shop just outside Diagon Alley.

The chips moved slowly towards her mouth as she leant over a potions text lying on her coffee table, devouring its words with relish.

Her mind was just beginning to sink away from her encounter with Malfoy and into the book she was reading when a pompous looking eagle owl she did not recognise landed on her balcony and tapped on the glass of the window.

She opened the door and plucked the letter from its proffered leg. When the owl hopped into her flat and helped itself to Sev's owl treats, she assumed that whoever had written to her expected a hasty reply.

As she sat back down on the couch, she unfurled the parchment and scowled at the familiar handwriting.

_Granger,_

_I have spoken with Teodora and she has agreed to meet the both of us this afternoon at five o'clock. Assuming you have gotten over your incomprehensible and pointless rage, we will be able to ask her about the _Zeitei Otrava_._

_Do try and behave yourself._

_Malfoy_

Hermione carefully folded the letter in half and proceeded to tear in to bits. She then retrieved a new piece of parchment and a quill from her school bag.

_Malfoy,_

_ Fine. _

_ Do try not to be a pompous, egotistical fuckwit._

_ Granger_

She tied the letter to the eagle owl's leg and watched as it took off out of her balcony door.

The pull of the information that Teodora might be able to offer them was too much to resist. It was a compromise, really. She'd still hate Malfoy wholeheartedly and even resolved to treat him with as much cold disdain as she possibly could just to quash any residual feelings he might have for her. She couldn't have him getting the wrong idea from any of her actions anymore.

* * *

Malfoy was waiting for her, slumped casually against a wall near the door of the entrance hall when she arrived at a quarter to five. Hermione realised very quickly that she was not adequately prepared for seeing him again.

"Here I was thinking you'd be late." he sneered.

"Fuck off." she said, storming past him.

He matched her quick stride easily. "Oh, how very mature."

"You don't exactly have the corner on maturity, Malfoy." she growled as they ascended the stairs.

He made no reply to this, though she could almost feel the amusement radiating off him. How was it that no matter how angry she got at him these days, he almost always found it funny rather than insulting?

Hermione attempted to hide it behind her hair but her face was burning red. Just seeing him again made her revisit all of the images she had been trying to block from her mind since Christmas Eve. Suddenly, in a bizarre turn of events, she was noticing everything about him, from his long fingered hands to the arch of his ash blonde eyebrows. There was no imagery behind this observance, her mind was certainly _not_ conjuring fantasies about her running her thumb over the soft skin in the crook of his arm, she was just looking, seeing.

Was he attractive? Yes, in gaunt, drug addict sort of way. But was she attracted _to_ him? No. Unequivocally, no.

They entered Teodora's classroom and ascended the stairs to her office. Hermione rapped on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a response. Teodora sat on the other side of her low desk, quill poised over a pile of essays.

"Ah, hello my _complicatii mici_." she said warmly, gesturing for the two of them to sit down opposite her. "What brings you here?"

They sat. Hermione looked at Malfoy, waiting for him to speak, just as he did the same to her. They both opened their mouths at the same time then closed them to let the other begin. Now that they were there, Hermione did not have the faintest clue as to how to broach the subject of the Dividing Line. It was of the highest importance that she approach her questioning with tact rather than the reverence she felt. She didn't want Teodora to get the wrong idea and didn't want to sound like a fanatic.

Finally, after a moment of awkward silence in which Teodora looked between her and Malfoy with polite interest, Hermione bit the bullet and began to speak. "We have something to ask you." she said.

"It might sound a bit odd…" interjected Malfoy nervously.

"But it's important." Hermione finished for him.

Teodora lay down her quill and rested her head on her hands looking slightly amused. "Alright, you have my attention."

Hermione cleared her throat, her palms sweating, "It's about the _Rusine _potion actually. I realised a little while ago that you used my blood as an ingredient. And… Well, that's not really looked on very warmly, is it?" she realised after the words left her mouth, that the sentence sounded far more accusatory than she meant it.

Naturally, Teodora's eyes narrowed in suspicion, the amusement gone from her face. "Here in Britain, yes, but my people have a different moral code."

Hermione shook her head and held out her hands in supplication, "Oh, No! I'm not questioning the morals behind it… I, that is to say _we_, were just wondering if there were other potions you know of that use blood. Human blood."

"There are others, yes, many others." said Teodora slowly. "Why?"

"We've been experimenting." said Malfoy, a hint of pride in his voice.

Teodora sat back in her seat and looked at Hermione shrewdly, "Am I about to find out why you were going down Knockturn Alley all those months ago?"

Hermione fought the temptation to roll her eyes. How was it that Teodora managed to know almost everything that went on with an almost Dumbledore like consistency?

Instead, she just nodded and looked at Malfoy. There was no point dancing around the subject. "Perhaps we should just show her what we did?"

He looked back at her disbelievingly for a moment before shrugging and holding his hands out in front of him to make the long puckered scars on his palms visible to Teodora.

A look of fear and open surprise crossed their teachers face. She looked between Hermione and Malfoy before he brought his hands together and scrunched up his face in concentration. The light burst forth out of his cupped palms.

Teodora gasped and drew back from him. "_Lumina a palmelor_!" she said, a hint of awe lacing through her voice.

The light was guttering slightly, like a candle in the breeze. "I'm not very good at it yet. It was much stronger when we took the potion." he said, looking at Hermione.

"Perhaps you just need more practice." Hermione was hoping to go for cold and condescending but instead, her statement had simply sounded reassuring, much to her annoyance.

"How did you do this?!" asked Teodora, her wide eyes fixed on the guttering light in Malfoy's hands.

"We have a book, called _Bastet's Line_. It told us how." said Hermione.

Teodora nodded, a hard look on her face. "I know this book. The _Intuneric Rege _Grindelwald wrote it."

"How did you know that?" said Hermione sharply. Malfoy had said it was the only copy in the world, how could Teodora have possibly heard of it?

"My mother helped him." said their teacher darkly, "She told me many things of this man. He was evil; many women from our land went with him for a time and helped him to use our spells and potions for his dark arts. But my grandmother did not, when she discovered what he meant to do."

Hermione gasped as Teodora's words were concreted into her mind. "That's why people are so superstitious about Dividing Lines isn't it?! That's why they think it's dark magic! Because Grindelwald used it!"

Teodora nodded. "Yes. Many forget that the magic did not come from him, but from us. Though, we prefer it that way. There are less questions asked." she said pointedly.

"So you know they're not evil? Not dangerous?" asked Malfoy, leaning forward on the desk.

"I know this, yes." she responded sombrely.

"My flat lies on the line." Hermione blurted out.

Teodora raised her eyebrows. "Does it, now? How very interesting. And you have been finding these experiments useful?" she asked, looking between Hermione and Malfoy with something that might be pride.

Hermione nodded fervently. "It's magic unlike I've ever seen, Teodora. It's… fascinating." There was the reverence she had been trying to avoid. Malfoy seemed to notice this and ploughed on ahead of Hermione.

"But there's one thing that Grindelwald talks about that we haven't been able to find anything on. The _Zeitei Otrava_ potion." he said, his voice lowering urgently.

"Do you know it?" asked Hermione in a voice that was barely a whisper.

Teodora gave them both a long, searching look before she sighed and nodded, "Yes… I know it."

Hermione's heart leapt into her chest, beating rapidly.

"You know how to brew it?" asked Draco, deferentially.

Teodora nodded again. "I do."

Hermione was almost so overcome with excitement that she felt as if she might throw up. "Can… Can you tell us?"

Teodora stood up and began rubbing her eyes tiredly as she paced behind her desk. "I do not know that I should, but I cannot think of a reason why I should not. Am I right to trust you both?"

The question was genuine, as if their teacher really was battling with her thoughts and wanted the reassurance. Hermione nodded instantly. She knew she was not capable of using that magic for ill.

"I can't defend myself," said Draco suddenly, "But I can tell you that you are right to trust Hermione. When we first began to research the Dividing Line, our work centred on the _Auxilium _spell." he looked at Teodora for confirmation that she knew the spell of which he was speaking. When she nodded, he continued, "I wanted to know whateffect it could have on other people, as Grindelwald's research hadn't extended that far. So I taunted Hermione, I said things that I knew without a doubt would upset her; until I was sure she would try and torture me or hurt me. But she didn't. She used the spell to cause me to feel only the emotions _she _was feeling. I think this shows a natural disposition to the light." he sighed, "As for me, well I can't work the magic of the Dividing Line without her there. So if you trust her, that's enough for both of us."

Teodora and Hermione both stared at Draco with open mouthed shock. Hermione, for her part, was speechless. After the argument they'd had, after the things she had, quite rightly, said to him, he could still speak about her as if she were incandescent with integrity.

Teodora gave him a look of deepest admiration before nodding. "Alright. I will tell you. But on one condition. You speak of this to no one but me, do you understand? Even your fellow _tovarasi_, for now, cannot know. Your ministry will think you are dark wizards and will take you away to the _Inchisoare_. You must promise this."

"I promise." said Hermione.

"I promise." said Draco.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Hermione and Draco were striding through the halls of Hogwarts, the tense silence of earlier forgotten with their argument. This silence was filled with excitement, anticipation. It was taut like a bow string, filling their space with an apprehensive happiness.

The recipe was clutched in Hermione's fist, burning her skin.

Wordlessly, the pair made their way down to Hogsmeade station, apparated to Diagon Alley, and dashed through the street, up to her flat. Once inside, Hermione laid the folded and slightly crumpled piece of parchment on her coffee table and she and Draco sat down on the couch, staring down at it in awe and shock.

After what felt like hours, Hermione finally broke the quiet, "I can't believe…"

"We've got it." Draco finished.

"Yeah." she breathed.

He leant forward and picked it up. She tensed. She almost did not want to read it. What if the ingredients were too hard to come by? What if it was too hard to brew? She hated the idea that they could possibly have come this far only to find that it couldn't be done.

Draco held the parchment out to her, looking just as fearful as she felt. Hermione shook her head emphatically, cringing away from his outstretched hand. He looked down and began to unfold the recipe. His eyes scanned the page.

Hermione waited with bated breath, ready for a frown of disappointment to mar his features.

But it didn't. After a moment, he smiled widely and looked up at her.

"It's alright. It can be done." he said, the relief evident in his voice.

Hermione snatched the parchment out of his hands and read.

It was overwhelmingly simple to brew. Suspiciously so. The only pause for concern she had was for the sheer amount of time it took. Almost fourteen hours in total.

The ingredients list was strangely short, requiring only a measure of blood from both her heart and Draco's, a membrane from an Ursini's Viper egg, which they already had left over from the _Virtus Lucis_, purified water, asphodel, the juice of one Sopophorous Bean, Belladonna, Valerian roots and a drop of perfume from each of them.

All of this was easily within reach, aside from the heart blood, but Teodora had included instructions for a spell that could make the harvesting on this both simple and safe.

"It says here that we have to make something called _Substantia_ before we can start on the _Zeitei Otrava_. That's from Grindelwald's book isn't it?" asked Hermione.

Malfoy nodded, already having retrieved _Bastet's Line _from underneath Hermione's couch. "He says that it captures the essence of the brewers. It's a separate potion though."

Hermione looked up at him, again overcome with apprehension. "Oh? What's in it?"

"Teodora already listed the ingredients. The _Substantia _is made from the heart blood, the membrane and the perfume. We don't even have to brew it. You just add the ingredients to the _cazan_ first, say a spell, do a little ritual and your done." he said with a shrug.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, "What kind of 'little ritual' are you talking about exactly?"

"It's not that bad, Granger. There just has to be some physical contact while we say the spell." he handed her the book, his face a mask of indifference.

She sighed in relief when she saw that the only contact required was her hand over his heart and visa versa while the incantation was spoken.

Unfortunately she noticed that Teodora had left a footnote at the bottom of the recipe for the _Zeitei Otrava _that told Hermione she did still need to feed Malfoy the finished potion with her own hands as she had done with the _Virtus Lucis_. So there was still that.

She was reminded of the infinitesimal moan that had escaped her mouth when his fingertips had brushed against her lips.

"So I think I can gather the ingredients we don't have within the next two days." he said, having taken the recipe back out of her hand and scanned the ingredients list. "I haven't noticed you wearing that sandalwood perfume lately. Have you run out? Because you'll have to buy some more if you have."

Hermione shook her head dumbly, shocked that he paid enough attention to her to notice the perfume she wore and identify the scent. "No, I haven't run out."

"Good. So we'll reconvene on New Year's eve." he said.

"Alright…" she said distantly. Malfoy made to stand up. "Wait, can you bring me some more books on blood magic? I've seen that spell for withdrawing blood from the heart in a few of them and I'd like to do some more research before we try and cast it."

He nodded and pulled on his cloak. "I'll bring them tomorrow."

With that, he turned and left her flat.

Hermione was left feeling both excited and nervous, entirely unsure of what to make of their new discovery and what it might mean for their relationship.

* * *

Sure enough, Malfoy dropped off the books on blood magic the next day. He had handed her the tombs, stood awkwardly in the middle of the lounge room for a few minutes as Hermione began to flick through to the index on the largest of them, before muttering a hurried goodbye and leaving as quickly as he'd come.

Hermione was mildly perplexed by his behaviour but her confusion was soon forgotten as she found a reference and detailed set of instructions for the spell she was looking for.

Every one of the books he'd brought for her had clear instructions for the spell and by the evening, Hermione felt confident that she could perform it without fear.

By New Year's Eve, she hadn't heard a peep from Malfoy. But at midday on the dot, he appeared on her doorstep carrying another large and inconspicuous looking box.

"You got everything?" she asked as he strode into her flat and deposited the box onto her coffee table.

He nodded. "Yep. Any luck with the blood retrieval spell?"

"Lot's. It was in every book you gave me. It's fairly easy."

The two of them settled themselves into their usual positions, Hermione on the couch and Malfoy on the floor opposite her, the _cazan _sitting on the coffee table between them.

"So shall we get to it?" Hermione asked, not wanting to drag out the asinine chatter. Now was as good a time as ever.

Malfoy nodded and looked nervous when Hermione pulled out her wand, pointing it at her chest.

"Are you ready? I don't think it will hurt." she said in an effort to comfort him.

He shrugged. Hermione leant forward on the table. "_Vita_." she whispered gently, the tip of her wand pressed into his chest. Malfoy grimaced in discomfort and Hermione did the same. An odd feeling was creeping up her hand; her skin was growing tight as if more liquid was being pushed into her veins. After a few moments, when the feeling grew too uncomfortable, she withdrew her arm and sat back.

Malfoy rubbed the point on his chest where her wand had been pressed. Hermione transferred her wand into her left hand and, as the instructions had dictated, held her right one over the _cazan_ in a fist, the tight feeling still making her skin throb. Slowly, she unclenched her fist and thick, red blood began flowing out of her palm and into the _cazan_. The throbbing tightness began to subside.

"Wow." said Malfoy as the last drops fell from her palm. Hermione inspected her hand, almost expecting to see a wound where the blood had exited her body, but found nothing. Her hand looked exactly the same as it always did.

She looked up just in time to see Malfoy pitch sideways slightly.

"Are you alright?" she asked fretfully.

"Granger, you just took about a pint of blood from my heart." he said, his breath shaky.

Hermione leapt for her feet and went to the kitchen. She made herself and Malfoy a cup of tea and produced a packet of Tim Tams from her pantry, slinging them under her arm as she walked back into the lounge room. Malfoy was leaning heavily on the coffee table, his head resting on his folded arms.

"Here." she said, setting the tea and Tim Tams onto the table. "To get your blood sugar back up."

Malfoy sipped the tea gratefully but eyed the Tim Tams with suspicion. "What on earth are those?"

"Tim Tams." she replied, "They're a muggle thing. Here, look." she pulled a biscuit from the packet and bit off a corner from both ends. "See? Then you dip it into the tea and use it like a straw." she demonstrated this, sucking the liquid up through the biscuit, finally popping the whole thing into her mouth when it became too soft to hold onto any longer.

He looked on at this display with a mixture of disgust and amusement. Hermione pushed the Tim Tams towards him. He looked as if he might protest for a moment before he sighed resignedly and took one. Hermione watched as he bit off a corner from both ends and dipped the biscuit into his coffee, repeating the process that she had already shown him. The biscuit quickly disintegrated in his hand and he caught it just in time before it fell into the tea. Hermione laughed as he threw his head back, letting the chocolaty mush fall into his mouth. He pulled his hand away to reveal a chocolate covered face looking back at her in bewildered awe.

"That was… Fucking amazing." he said reverentially, already reaching for another Tim Tam.

Hermione threw her head back and cackled at his chocolate covered visage. She retrieved a cloth from her kitchen sink and handed it to Malfoy who wiped his face clean of the mess.

"Alright, you have to do my blood now." she said, smiling, "I'll need some Tim Tams too."

Malfoy nodded seriously, his face and hands now clean, and took up his wand. Hermione leant forward again so that he could press its tip to her chest.

"_Vita_." he said in the same gentle voice she had used previously. Hermione was glad he was paying attention.

He grimaced as what she assumed was the same throbbing, tight feeling filled his hand. But she was only allowed a fleeting moment to consider his discomfort before she registered her own. Something was pulling at her heart, gently but firmly.

It felt almost like grief did, that same unyielding lurch in her chest, the beat of her heart pressed up against her diaphragm. It was making her stomach churn and her head spin slightly.

After a few moments of this, Malfoy withdrew his wand, leaving Hermione feeling weak and anxious. He repeated her earlier movement, holding his right fist over the _cazan _and releasing the blood damned under his skin slowly. It slugged into the potion, as her blood intermingled with his.

Hermione was just feeling relieved that the experience was over when suddenly an empty feeling slammed into her mind, her head began to spin in earnest and she gagged, allowing her to fall headlong into panic.

Malfoy smiled sympathetically and dug into the packet of Tim Tams, offering her a chocolate covered biscuit. But Hermione was already crawling away from the table, her panic attack taking hold of her body and rocking her senses. Her whole frame shook and she broke out into a sweat. She crawled into the kitchen and collapsed onto the cold tiles, pressing her cheek to the floor.

After a moment, Malfoy appeared, crouching in front of her looking frightened. "Are you alright? Did I do it wrong?"

Hermione shook her head infinitesimally. "Panic attack." she said through gritted teeth.

Malfoy nodded and disappeared for a moment, stepping over Hermione. He rematerialised holding a Tim Tam and a glass of water.

Hermione held out her hand and took the water, sipping at the glass before setting it on the tiles by her head and reaching for the Tim Tam. She munched on it with her eyes closed as Malfoy sat down on the floor next to her.

"Does this happen often?" he asked quietly, after a moment.

Hermione nodded, "All the time."

She let the panic sweep over her for a few minutes until it began to dull and ebb away. Malfoy remained silent, sitting by her side until she was ready to sit up again. When she did, she smiled weakly. "Sorry."

"It's alright." he said, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

They made their way back into the lounge room and Hermione slumped onto the couch gratefully. "So now that's done, shall we get on with it?"

Malfoy nodded and reached into the box of ingredients, pulling from it a fancy looking black bottle.

"Cologne." he said by way of an explanation when Hermione raised her eyebrows in question.

"Oh! I forgot about that." she retrieved her own perfume from her bedroom and set it on the coffee table next to Malfoy's. He poured a drop of liquid from each bottle into their combined blood while Hermione stirred slowly anti-clockwise. Their intermingled scents filled the room.

Malfoy rifled through the box again for the bottle that contained the last remaining Ursini's viper membrane which he added to the potion.

"So now the incantation?" asked Hermione.

He nodded and they both sat up to lean closer over the _cazan_. Hermione held her wand in her right hand and extended her left to lie over Malfoy's heart. He did the same, his large palm landing almost over her breast and she resisted the urge to shrink away from the contact. She studied his face for any hint of smugness or arrogance but there was none.

After a moment, they said, "_Substantia_." together as their wands hovered over it and the potion suddenly began to bubble, turning a luminescent purple. The scent of the perfume and blood together was surprisingly intoxicating as the spell took effect and the fumes wafted out of the _cazan_.

Hermione and Malfoy grinned dopily at each other for a few minutes, breathing deeply the intermingled scents.

After a while Hermione reached for the box of ingredients. "We should probably keep going." she said and giggled.

Malfoy sniggered. "Yeah."

She began laying the left over ingredients on the table, humming. The recipe sat between them as the two of them proceeded to prepare the items for brewing. The sound of chopping and scraping filled the flat as the _Substantia _continued to bubble and give off its intoxicating scent.

After half an hour, Hermione registered vaguely that Malfoy was having trouble extracting the juice from his Sopophorous Bean.

"Try crushing it under the blade of your knife." she said.

He did as she'd suggested and gave a grunt of approval as the juice spilt out over his cutting board. He added it to the potion before moving onto slicing the Valerian roots carefully.

Hermione couldn't help but smile.

* * *

A/N I'm am SO sorry it's taken me so long to post this new chapter! I was spirited away on a spur of the moment trip up to the bush for new years.

I've taken note of those of you who have reviewed chapter 19 and I'll be reading and reviewing your stories when I get back home in a week or two.

I'm still writing and I hope to post another chapter by new years, but don't hold me to that. My access to the internet is sketchy. Because of this I will not be able to respond to your lovely reviews at this time, but please know that I am, as always, touched by your support. Love to you all.

xx


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

CRIME FOR CRIME

_"__Guilt and innocence, they are a matter of degree, what might be justice to you, might not be justice to me."_

Draco and Hermione worked tireless for many hours, stirring clockwise and anti-clockwise, adding ingredients and consulting the recipe.

Draco had long since commandeered her record player and had been playing DJ all afternoon while they brewed the _Zeitei Otrava_. Hermione found him more of an expert on her collection than she was and when he wasn't stirring or slicing, he was emphatically pawing through her records informing her that she had to listen to this or pay attention to the lyrics in that.

"I was surprised when you told me your mother listened to muggle music." said Hermione around dinnertime as Draco placed yet another record onto the player.

He shrugged, "She used to say that the language of music transcended race."

"Didn't your father mind?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, he minded. She never played them around him though. He pretended like he didn't know she did it, but he did. There wasn't much that went on in the Manor that he didn't know about." he replied.

Hermione frowned. Yes, by the sounds of it, Draco had never had an easy life. One full of material pleasures and abundance, always, but when he spoke of Lucius, his voice was always laced with a touch of resentment and fear.

"How long will he be in Azkaban?" Hermione asked, hoping that she wasn't overstepping a boundary.

"Life." Draco responded darkly.

His tone made Hermione shrink away from the subject. He set the needle down on the record and Vivaldi poured into the space.

"Here," she said over the music, "My arm's starting to hurt, can you take over?"

He nodded and took the stirring rod out of her hand.

Hermione sat back on the couch, rubbing her sore neck. Her whole body was tense with anticipation at being able to take the _Zeitei Otrava _and see her own magic moving around her. "Only twenty five more clockwise stirs then we have to let it simmer for the next eight hours."

"So when will it be done?"

"Two am." she said with a chuckle, "But we don't have to take it right away. It can be stored."

Draco shrugged, "We'll play it by ear. Oh, listen to the violins here. Fucking brilliant."

Hermione obliged and listened. As always, he was right. It was brilliant. She watched him as he stared intently into the potion, stirring clockwise slowly, his lips moving soundlessly as he counted each rotation of the stirring rod.

There was something about him, Hermione realised, that made her think. When she caught Ron in moments like this, and simply watched him as he worked, her mind was blissfully blank and comfortable. With Draco it was ceaselessly chattering, questions and possible answers zipping from one synapse to the other at speed. She was so used to it now, that it barely registered.

He was sinking into her life, into her space. It was like she was a jar full of gravel, and he was sand, pouring into all of the empty spaces between the rocks. But, much to her confusion, Hermione found she was comfortable with that. It didn't bother her like she thought it should. Of course, she wasn't keen on furthering that into whatever he might want from her, no, but to leave it as it was, that was ok.

Draco and Hermione were simple together, really. The dynamic was established. Sure, there were hard parts about her friendship with him, but they seemed to flow through them fairly easily. Hermione was grateful for this. With Ron and Harry, if they were angry with her, they stayed angry for days, weeks. Draco and her would yell it out and get over it.

"Done." he said, dropping the stirring rod onto her coffee table with a clatter and breaking Hermione out of her reverie.

She leant over to inspect the potion. As per Teodora's recipe, it was glowing slightly, an iridescent purple. She nodded in approval, wishing again that she could sample it there and then. "Right. Well, now we just have to occupy ourselves for the rest of the night."

"Dinner?" he asked, shrugging.

"Sure." she responded.

"What have you got?"

Hermione rubbed her eyes wearily, "I really don't know." she thought for a moment about the contents of her pantry, not relishing the idea of preparing a meal after she'd spent the better part of the day brewing. "Why don't we go out?" she asked after a moment.

Draco looked dubious at this. "Where?"

"We could go out into muggle London. It's New Years Eve. Something's bound to be happening…"

"I don't know…" he said, sounding apprehensive.

"Come on, Draco. Live a little." she laughed. "It'll be fun."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were striding towards the Leaky Cauldron, scarves and cloaks pulled tight around their bodies to ward off the stinging cold. The street was dark but alive with people out celebrating the arrival of the New Year.

They pushed their way through the cramped pub, Draco holding onto the back of Hermione's cloak so he didn't lose her in the crowd. They both kept their heads down, and their hoods pulled up over their faces to avoid being recognised. They emerged out into bustling London, the cold stinging their faces slightly. Draco looked up and down the street, his eyes wide and cautious.

Hermione elbowed him playfully, "It's alright. We're safe."

He scoffed, "What, you think I'm scared?"

He made a show of stepping away from her to show his apparent courage. Hermione had to grab a hold of the back of his cloak and yank him back onto the pavement when he unwittingly strode into oncoming traffic.

Car horns screeched as Hermione pulled him around to face her. "Draco, if you are hit by a car, you will die, alright?!"

He frowned. "What's a car?"

"Oh my god, did you not take Muggle Studies?!" When he shook his head bemusedly, she rolled her eyes and pointed at the busy road, "Those big, loud, moving metal things."

"Oh. Right." he pointed at a passing shiny Astin Martin, "I like that one."

Hermione laughed, "Of course you do. Come on."

She linked an arm through his in order to keep him close so he wouldn't do anything else that might get him killed. They began to wander down the street away from the Leaky Cauldron, weaving through their fellow pedestrians. Hermione wasn't worried about their robes or cloaks drawing stares. Being New Years Eve, most people were dressed strangely; so she and Draco did not stand out in the slightest.

After walking a couple of blocks, with Draco staring around at the muggle world in a sort of contemptuous awe, Hermione noticed a homelessman, sitting slumped in a doorway to a shop. She approached him, dug into her beaded bag and produced a ten pound note, handing it to the man and wishing him a happy new year. He smiled up at her and returned the sentiment. Draco gave her a sideways looked as they moved off again.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, perplexed.

"Because he's homeless." she replied.

"So?"

"So, it's New Years Eve and he might be hungry." she said with a shrug, unable to see why her companion thought her behaviour so strange.

"But why did you give him money?"

"Because he doesn't have any."

"How do you know?"

Hermione sighed at his relentless questioning. "Would _you_ choose to spend New Years Eve slumped in a doorway looking like you hadn't showered in three weeks?"

"No, but these are muggles." he said, as if this were obvious.

Hermione swiftly withdrew her arm from Malfoy's and glared at him. "It's that kind of bigoted, pureblood supremacy bullshit that makes me weep for the future of our world, Malfoy."

He had the good grace to look marginally guilty. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking. I've just never been out in the muggle world before."

Hermione pointed a finger at him, her voice stern. "Well it's time you started to get it into your head that being a muggle does not make someone dirty or not worthy of your notice. Look around you, do all of these people look like that man did?" he shook his head. "Exactly. So they are not all the same. Nevertheless, that man doesn't have what we have. He doesn't have money or a home or a family to go to. We have. That's why I gave him money. So that I could share some of my own blessings with someone who, for whatever reasons, doesn't have any."

Draco thought about this for a moment, as if rolling the new concepts she was introducing him to around in his head to see how they tasted. "But what if he was just pretending so that people would do that?"

Hermione shrugged. "You're not the first person to say that. But, I don't care, better to be safe than sorry. I might have just given ten pounds to a conman or someone who really needed it. I'm happy to take the risk." she said defiantly. "It's not just people in the wizarding world who suffer."

Malfoy nodded but remained silent, his brow creased in thought. Hermione spotted a café open a way down the street and linked her arm back through Draco's in order to steer them towards it.

"Come on, let's get out of the cold." she said.

He followed her into the warmth of the somewhat busy eatery and together, they made their way toward the counter. Hermione stared up at the blackboard suspended behind the cashier as they joined the line.

"Do you see anything you like?" she asked Draco.

He stared up at the board for a moment before shrugging, "This is your wheelhouse. You can pick."

Hermione smiled, "Alright then."

When it came to their turn to order, she smiled at the girl behind the til. "Hi! Could I get two hot chocolates and two sausage rolls please? Oh, and a plate of chips with garlic aioli."

The girl smiled warmly at Draco, who did not seem to notice, and handed Hermione a metal stand with a number on cardboard at the top. She made off to prepare their order as Hermione led Draco towards a table by the window.

Hermione unwound the scarf from around her neck as she sat down on a somewhat uncomfortable metal chair, her companion doing the same. He seemed, for the moment, to have either run out of questions or was disinclined to risk asking them. She was marginally grateful for this, wanting to lose herself in her environment rather than concentrating on trying to tell Draco about the muggle world. It felt rather odd to be out and about again, but she found that living and acting like a muggle was like riding a bike, one never forgets how to do it.

"So how far do you live from here?" he asked her after a few minutes silence.

"My parents don't live in London; our house is in Cotswolds." she replied, "About forty minutes away from here."

"It's still theirs?"

Hermione nodded, "I figured they'd want to be able to come back to it at some point. What about you? Where's the Manor?"

"Wiltshire."

"I've never been in that part of the country before, aside from… Well…" she'd been trying hard not to stick her foot in her mouth as it was, but had nevertheless, failed. The only memory she had of Wiltshire was being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. "Is it nice?" she floundered.

Draco smiled slightly at her slip before saying, "It's beautiful. I could show you sometime if you like."

"That would be lovely." she responded, more because she didn't want the conversation to go down the dark and sticky road it seemed to be heading.

Thankfully, the waitress appeared then with their hot chocolates and food. She smiled winningly at Malfoy and said, "If you need anything, just let me know." in a sultry voice, without even glancing at Hermione.

As the girl walked away, swinging her hips in what she undoubtedly thought was a sexy way, Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Draco, perplexed.

"That waitress." she replied.

"What about her?"

Hermione laughed. "She was flirting with you."

He gaped at her, "Was she?!" he proceeded to crane his head over the crowded café, attempting to catch a glimpse of the girl in question.

Hermione grabbed a chip and plunged it into the small bowl of garlic aioli, shaking her head and smiling at his behaviour. "You really haven't spent much time around women, have you Draco?"

He settled back into his seat and poked at his crumbly sausage roll uncertainly. "No. Not really."

"I still don't understand how that's possible." she said.

"Why not?"

"Because you're… You. You're all suave and arrogant. Women love that sort of thing. Well… Most women." her tone was dark, as if she thought that women who found this sort of thing attractive were a waste of space.

"Not you?"

Hermione scoffed, "Absolutely not."

He looked frustrated, as if he was trying to work out a hard mathematical problem. "But you dated Krum didn't you? In fourth year?"

She laughed, "Yes, but would you honestly describe him as suave and arrogant?"

"No, I guess not." he said, frowning slightly again. Suddenly, something appeared to click into place in his head and he smiled knowingly, "I know what _you're_ into. Notoriety."

"Excuse me?!" Hermione gasped, almost choking on her mouthful of sausage roll.

"You're excused." he said casually, taking a sip of his hot chocolate, "Think about it, Granger. First Krum, an internationally famous quidditch player; then Mclaggen, personal friend of Rufus Scrimgeour; then Weasley, right hand man of the famous Harry Potter. You kind of have a pattern."

Hermione laughed indignantly, "I do _not _have a pattern!"

"I think you might." he chuckled.

They ate in silence for a moment as Hermione considered Draco's words. He had indeed provided her with a complete list of all her romances, excluding, of course, George Weasley and Dean Thomas who she'd kissed on a whim one night in her fifth year. They hadn't gone any further than that.

She didn't like to think that she could be shallow in the way Draco was describing and really, couldn't see the logic in it. With Victor, it hadn't been his fame that had drawn her to him, more the fact that she was greatly flattered that he'd really liked her. At that point, not many people had. She was sort of an ugly duckling. Mclaggen was, of course, only a ploy to make Ron jealous of which she was ridiculously embarrassed. What a mistake that had been. Arrogant git. And she had kissed Dean simply because her feelings for Ron were beginning to form and she'd felt freaked out and wanted to see if she could really like anyone else. Obviously it hadn't worked. Because in the end, she didn't just like Ron, she'd loved him. Even though they had very little in common, he was a breath of fresh air to her, strong and commanding. She didn't need protection, but he protected her anyway. She liked that. He was there for her when she was too tired, too injured or too sad to defend herself.

Or he had been, once.

Hermione's mind began falling into a black fog; as it always did when she spent too much time thinking of Ron. She didn't feel, anymore, like she was still in love with him. That had gone away quite some time ago. She didn't miss him or pine for him, really. She just felt hurt that he'd rejected her. He'd had his time to evaluate her and had ended it by declaring her entire some of parts unsuitable. That was painful and something she wasn't entirely sure how to move past. In her mind, Ron was alright as he was, sure he was flawed, but they were flaws she could accept. Apparently he did not feel the same way about her.

"Granger?" Draco's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Mmm?" she responded distantly.

"Come back to earth." he said, laughing.

"Right." she looked down, noticing that they had both finished their food. "I'll go pay, then perhaps we could catch a cab to the Thames and watch the fireworks?" she looked at her watch, "It's just after ten and it'll take a while to get into the city properly."

Draco shrugged his ascent and stood to follow her over to the counter. Hermione paid the girl behind the til, fighting the urge to roll her eyes as the girl smiled and giggled ridiculously at Draco who, to Hermione's amusement, seemed entirely at a loss as to what to do.

They walked back out into the cold street and Hermione immediately began trying to hail a taxi.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he watched her stand on the curb, staring out into the oncoming traffic, looking for a cab.

"I'm hailing a cab." Hermione replied, throwing her arm into the air as a taxi approached them.

"What's a cab?"

"It's a car that we can pay to take us where we want to go." the taxi continued past them and Hermione swore loudly.

"You want me to get into one of these metal death traps?!" asked Draco, scandalised.

"Yes, Draco. You'll be fine." she responded with a roll of her eyes.

After another few attempts, a cab finally crossed several lanes of traffic at speed and screeched to a halt, almost mounting the gutter in front of them. Hermione opened one of the back doors and climbed inside. Draco followed her awkwardly.

"Where to, love?" asked the driver over his shoulder.

"Piccadilly Circus please." she responded.

"Won't be able to take you all the way in, with these crowds." the driver grunted.

"That's fine." she said, turning to Draco who was pressed uncomfortably into the worn leather seat looking a little freaked out. "Here, you have to put on your seat belt."

"My what?" he asked shakily.

"Your seat belt. It's so that you don't go flying through the windscreen if the car crashes." she slid across the seat as a stricken look plastered itself across his face. Hermione smiled reassuringly and leant across his body to grasp the buckle and pull it around his chest. She was just clicking it into the holster when the cab pulled away from the curb and she was pushed into Draco's lap.

"Sorry! Hold on." with effort, she dragged herself over to the other side of the car and belted herself in.

Draco looked absolutely terrified.

"How fast are we going?" he asked in a small voice.

Hermione wisely chose not to answer this as the taxi swerved and weaved through traffic. They weren't going all that fast, but she was sure that even if she had said they were going five kilometres an hour, Draco would still have wet himself. As the ride progressed, he began to look paler and paler and she began to seriously worry about how well he was handling their jaunt into London. He was completely out of his element.

She felt so sorry for him and he looked so terrified, that she laid a hand on his and grasped his fingers in attempt to reassure him.

Instantly, the terrified look was gone from his face. He stared at her, open mouthed, as the lights of the passing streetlamps sliced through the dark interior of the car. Hermione smiled and turned to look out the window, keeping a firm hold of his hand. She did this because she knew that in order for him to be letting her take him out of the wizarding world like this, he must trust her a great deal. She liked that he trusted her and wanted to give something back. So she held his hand while he was scared.

The almost forty minute journey passed in this silent attitude, Hermione gazing out the window as London flashed past her eyes, her palm cocooning Draco's fingers. They did not speak, and Hermione suspected that this was because if he did, he might vomit.

The car eventually pulled up by a curb.

"Can't go no further, love. The crowds, see?" said the cabbie.

"That's quite alright." said Hermione politely, handing him the appropriate amount of money and exiting the cab.

Draco climbed out onto the street and went immediately to lean heavily against the obliging wall of a nearby building.

"You alright?" she asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head. "Never again." was all he said.

Hermione suspected he might have motion sickness and suggested that he walk it off. She looped her arm through his as they ploughed through the dense crowd. After walking for some time, Draco seemed to have perked up considerably and they decided to stop at one of the many food stalls set up along the banks of the Thames. Hermione ordered them a chai tea and a Spanish donut each.

With their newly acquired food, she found them a patch of unoccupied grass and discreetly conjured a blanket for them to sit on. Hermione checked her watch as she sat down. It was eleven thirty.

"The fireworks will start soon. It's almost midnight." she said to Draco who was slumped beside her on the blanket, sipping his tea and munching on his donut.

He nodded to show he'd heard her. "Is this how you spend every New Year?"

"No, mostly I'm at Hogwarts aren't I? But when I'm not, there's usually a party or something near my parents house that we go to." Hermione tore off a chunk of her donut and said through her mouthful, "What about you? What's New Years like at the Manor?"

"Well, my father gets drunk." he said, laughing. "And my mother throws a party for all of wizarding high society. It's very… Grand." he scrunched up his face to show his distaste at this.

Hermione chuckled, "I can imagine… Do you miss it?"

"A little. I miss bits of it. I always used to steal a bottle of firewhisky and drink it in the kitchen with Crabbe and Goyle and Pansy." he laughed, his eyes glazing as the memory seeped through his mind, "I remember once my father caught us, when I was about thirteen. He sent the others away and they all thought he was going to _crucio _me, but instead he just sat down and drank with me. We drank the whole bottle." he smiled fondly.

Hermione frowned at his recollection of Lucius. There was no fear or hurt in his voice and this wasn't typical to what she knew of him. "Do you miss your father, Draco?" she asked quietly.

He screwed up his eyes in thought. "I don't really know. I miss normal, you know? I miss it being him and mother and me at the Manor every summer holidays and every Christmas. He wasn't always a good man, I don't think. He was angry a lot and he could be cruel. But that was just him, so I accepted it. He expected a lot from me which I think fucked with me a bit. His expectations were pretty out there. But I respected him, that's why I wanted to make him happy." he paused for a moment, thinking, "I don't want him around right now. I think he'd just make life harder. But it… it makes me sad that he'll never be around ever again." his voice was slightly thick.

"Do you think he should be let out of Azkaban then?" she asked.

"I _want_ him to be, one day. But I don't think he _should_ be. Whatever I might say about him, Granger, he was an evil man. He _was _cruel. There were more awful things he did than good. He deserves what he got. My mother on the other hand… She just did what was best for her family. I know no one else can really see that but… I know. She's not a bad person, a little prejudiced, but not evil."

Hermione stared down at her hands for a moment, both grateful and scared that he was sharing all of this with her.

"Just so you know, Draco, I didn't testify against her." she said fervently.

He gave her a long, searching look, his eyes flicking between both of hers as if waiting for one of them to show a lie. "Do you know who did?" he asked slowly.

Hermione shook her head. "No one spoke to me about her trial; I didn't even know it had happened until you told me."

After a moment, he nodded. "I believe you."

Hermione made no response to this, though she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. She hadn't given the matter much thought since he'd told her about the anonymous testimony, but she realised then that the thought that Draco might believe her to be the reason his mother was in gaol _had _bothered her.

"So have you spoken to Isobel?" he asked after a moment's pause, clearly wishing to steer away from the topic of his mother.

She shook her head. "Not since she left before Christmas."

"She went to Padma's didn't she?"

"Yeah. She'll be back in a couple of days I think." Hermione sipped her chai.

"Are you worried about her?" Draco asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, yes, obviously. But I try not to be. I can't change her feelings for her, can I? There's no use in pouring all my energy into being concerned. I just have to make sure she knows I'm there for her should she ever feel the need to… Try again."

He nodded and said, in a low, serious voice, "Did she tell you why she did it?"

Hermione stared intently at her cup of tea. "She did."

Draco nodded again and tore of a chunk of his donut, staring out over the Thames. Hermione waited for him to say something more, praying that he wouldn't. When he remained silent, she relaxed a little.

The sounds of the monumental crowd around them seemed strangely muffled in the space that lay between their bodies. It was a place to be quiet. Having him by her side made her feel, for the first time, separate from the muggles around her. She'd never felt like that before. It had always felt normal to be among them, like she was a part of the masses, just with a slightly odd little eccentricity.

But that feeling was gone now, and Hermione wasn't sure if she really minded that. When she really thought about it, there was nowhere else in the world than she'd rather be than right by Draco's side. There was no other place that fit her better right then.

"Time?" he demanded suddenly.

"Eleven fifty eight." she replied, glancing at her watch, shocked at his sudden outburst.

"Right." he took a deep breath, as if steadying his nerves and Hermione fought the desire to laugh. Was he scared of fireworks too?

She quickly discovered that a fear of fireworks was not the reason for his nervousness.

As the first jet of light streamed up into the sky, exploding with a crack that shook Hermione's eardrums, the crowd had gotten to its feet to cry, "HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

She almost cheered along with them, but Draco had stopped her mouth with a kiss.

It took a moment for this fact to register with her. At first she thought that perhaps he'd just tripped on his feet and fallen on top of her in the fuss. Maybe someone had pushed him. It seemed impossible to her that they could be kissing. Her mind immediately began to chatter madly, drowning out all awareness of anything other than his mouth and her own thoughts.

Hermione considered, for a moment, pushing him away, maybe he deserved that. But she didn't have the heart. He was so nervous; she could feel his breath, uneven and shaky against her face. And what was so bad about kissing him for a minute? It wasn't like he was terrible. In fact, he was really quite un-terrible.

Kissing him felt like kissing anyone, really, lips on lips. It's a nice feeling. She considered that it was always the implications behind kissing that made it exciting, the question of 'what will happen next?' Of course, it was the hormones too. Obviously. That thrill of feeling that started somewhere in her abdomen and shot up into the space behind her eyes. And right then, she was getting those in abundance. His pheromones were reacting _very_ well with her pheromones.

She'd always thought Draco smelt good, though she was now discovering that he tasted good as well. Mostly like chai, but it was laced with something that was familiar to her, something quintessentially _him_. His mouth tasted like his breath, his sweat, his cologne. Every scent he'd shared with her while they were bent over the _cazan_, while he leant over her shoulder to point at something in a book she was reading, while he'd dragged her from a freezing lake and cradled her in his arms, was all concentrated in the taste of his mouth.

It felt as if she'd been living above a donut shop all this time, smelling the cinnamon and the batter day and night, but she'd never been in to give any of it a try. Now she was experiencing the sampler, the special. And she wasn't disappointed.

The two of them sat like that, side by side, heads turned to each other, locking only at the lips, with his hand resting lightly, tentatively, on her cheek. Words tumbled around in her mind at a million kilometres an hour.

Hermione decided that she supposed she should be hugging him. That's what you did when you kissed someone wasn't it? Wasn't that appropriate? Polite? But didn't she just _want _to hug him?

Yes.

It felt nice when she lifted her arms and draped them around his neck. She'd been thinking about hugging him for so long, had experienced the urge to comfort him in some way many times, that it felt good to finally be able to give in and do it. Though perhaps this was not the setting she'd originally visualised.

He seemed to take her sudden movement of returning his embrace as a sign of acquiescence and immediately did something that made her squirm, whether from sheer delight or horror, she didn't know.

His tongue traced the inner line of her closed mouth, flicking at corners of her lips, and when she opened it to let out a delighted or horrified gasp, he let it snake in, his tongue colliding warmly against her own.

Hermione giggled and the sound was so unlike her, so unbelievably girly, that Draco pulled away, looking at her as if she had lost her mind. She thought she might have.

After a moment he laughed too, tangled his hands in her hair, and kissed her again. She let him.

This time, the words didn't clang about it her head. Because, with his hands in her hair, pulling ever so slightly, he'd made it about sex. There was a veiled invitation in the way he was touching her now, that lightly suggested that she move a little bit closer, that she press her body just a little more firmly against his. And Hermione never could think straight about sex. In fact, when engaged in experiences like this, it was one of the few times when her mind remained blissfully blank. Tunnel vision.

After several minutes spent like this, Draco finally pulled away, looking thoroughly kissed. "You're not too bad at that, Granger, not that I have much to compare it to."

Hermione blushed and laughed in spite of herself. "Well, thank you." she felt strangely proud. The last few instances of romantic contact she'd had were not much to remember. It was nice to feel wanted, to feel like someone found her attractive. More than anything, though she couldn't really admit this to herself, it was nice to feel properly attracted to someone else, to feel as if she really liked someone, as a human being. And she liked Draco like that.

She shifted slightly closer to him so that their shoulders and thighs were pressed together. "And by the way," she said, smiling, "I think we can safely assume we're on a first name basis now."

* * *

A/N Again, I won't be able to answer your lovely reviews. Still stuck up in the bush! Though it is lovely here.

Hope you all had a wonderful New Year. I know mine was... Interesting. Lol.

xx


	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

GRAVEL

_"You were still sitting there when the smoke cleared."_

Hermione and Draco stayed sitting on the banks of the Thames only as long as the fireworks lasted before she announced that they should return to her flat to check in with the potion. They did not kiss again, they did not embrace, but she noticed that they were closer than usual, their bodies always touching in some way. He was far more demonstrative than he'd been before. It was a casual hand on her knee when he moved, the fact that he did not shy away when their hands touched by accident; it was the eye contact, the unspoken understanding that he would mind her beaded bag when she got up to find the toilets, the relentless, flowing conversation that carried them through New Year's Eve and into January 1st.

After jokingly informing Draco that they would have to take another cab just to see the terror on his face, Hermione led him to an abandoned alleyway where they apparated back to the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron.

Diagon Alley was far rowdier than when they'd left it, most of the partygoers having spilled out into the street, thoroughly inebriated. Many times, Draco was forced to yank Hermione out of the way when drunken men leered at her or seemed about to topple over on top of her.

Thus, they mounted the spiral staircase inside Flourish and Blotts feeling grateful to be out of the turbulent crowds.

Hermione thrust her key into the lock of her front door and heaved it open. Instantly the delicious and intoxicating smell of the brewing _Zeitei Otrava_ engulfed them. It smelt exotic, she supposed, because of the intermingled scent of her sandalwood perfume and his spicy cologne. There was the metallic undercurrent of blood wound through the fumes as well. Hermione realised that, all in all, it smelt like their kiss tasted. Something that was in essence the union between her scent and Draco's.

She made her way over to the _cazan_,sweeping up the recipe from her tabletop as she did so. The potion had turned an ominous, shimmering black which was, according to Teodora's instructions, the desired outcome. It was ready.

She looked up and nodded at Draco who was looking at her, eyebrows raised, waiting for the verdict.

"Should we take it now?" he asked.

Hermione tilted her head from side to side to show her indecisiveness. She felt quite tired from their little jaunt out into London and really, wanted to be completely coherent when she finally took the potion so as to fully experience its effects.

"As much as it kills me to say it, I think I'd rather wait." she said, flashing Draco an apologetic look.

He nodded understandingly. "Me too. How long will it keep for?"

"Oh, ages." she responded with a wave of her hand.

"Well, maybe next weekend?" he suggested.

Hermione nodded and knelt down beside the _cazan_, conjuring a collection of glass vials in which to store the potion. He disappeared into the kitchen as she began siphoning the black liquid into the tiny bottles with her wand.

She was just filling her twentieth and last vial when Draco reappeared, setting a steaming cup of tea down in front of her.

Hermione looked up at him, noticing the absence of a mug in his hands, "Where's yours?"

"I didn't make one for me."

She gave him a confused look.

"I should probably get back to Hogwarts." he said, avoiding her eyes.

Hermione immediately felt a huge clashing of emotions. On the one hand, there was a small sting of rejection, and on the other, a little rush of relief. She didn't want him to stay, and hadn't planned on inviting him, but she'd wanted him to ask if he could. She knew she needed her own space to sort out her feelings surrounding what had happened between them, but also didn't really want to be given the opportunity to do that, knowing herself as she did and realising that the moment he left, the over analysing of the situation would begin. Not to mention to feelings of guilt and betrayal that she'd noticed waiting in the wings.

Naturally, she communicated none of this to Draco and said simply, "Oh, ok. Well…"

"Yeah." he said, wandering in the direction of her front door.

Hermione stood and followed him.

"See you Gra- I mean, Hermione." he stuttered.

"Bye Draco." she responded, her tone a touch morose.

The moment the locked clicked into place as he closed the door, a thousand different anxieties began spilling into Hermione's head.

What if she was an awful kisser? What if all the other boys had just been too polite to say? What if she was ugly and grotesque and he'd only done it because he wanted to shut her up?

She immediately ran to the bathroom in order to examine her reflection. Her face was flushed pink, but whether it was from her emotions or the cold outside, she didn't know. Other than her slightly weathered complexion, she looked no different to what she usually did.

Hermione retreated back to her couch to drink the unfathomably perfect tea he'd made her. She stared down into the cup in her hands, feeling her confusion growing greater by the minute. Why did he make her tea? Why did he come up into her flat?

Why did she even _care_?!

This was Draco Malfoy. There was no glossing over it; he'd been genuinely awful to her in school. He'd been pretty fucking awful in general actually; he was never the nicest human being even when he _wasn't _bullying her. She could see that the war had quite clearly matured him, but _why_?! Why was he suddenly a candidate for someone she could possibly kiss again? Or have sex with? Or date?

Could she marry Draco? Could she have children with him?

Hermione looked down and noticed the cup trembling in her hands.

She suddenly began envisaging sitting down with Ron at a café and telling him she was with Draco, being all humble and mature and saying how much she loved Ron and valued the time they'd spent together. She'd be charmingly self deprecating and talk highly of him and laugh wittily about the strangeness of love…

Love?

_Love_?!

Hermione stared madly around at her flat. Where was she going with this? They'd only kissed for fuck's sake. Why was that suddenly turning into a relationship in her mind? Judging by his swift departure, Draco probably didn't even _want _that. It was just a snog, he'd say, just a meaningless, New Years kiss. Nothing to write home about. She hadn't had this reaction when it had been George or Dean or Mclaggen. Those had been marginally simple to her; she'd known exactly what would happen after the kiss because she'd been the initiator, the one in control.

And who was she kidding? Ron would _not_ sit at a café with her and talk amicably about her phantom relationship with Draco. He'd lose the plot, unequivocally, entirely. And Harry too…

Hermione could almost hear the two of them already. "_A gross betrayal… How could you? … Why him? … Traitor… What's wrong with you? … After everything he did…_"

And what about Isobel? Hermione had sworn that she wouldn't go near him, sworn that she felt nothing for him, that nothing would ever happen between them. Isobel clearly felt strongly enough for him that his apparent feelings for Hermione had driven her over the edge. Of course, Hermione knew very well that it had quite literally been the straw that broke the camel's back, that there were a lot of other things going on in her friend's head that had driven her to that point, but still. Isobel's feelings mattered to Hermione and she didn't ever, _ever_, want to make her friend sad. But really, she'd already taken it too far. Draco Malfoy had kissed her, and she had kissed him back.

And there was the guilt, crawling out of the recesses of her mind and making itself comfortable like an unwanted, very much unwelcome houseguest.

Frustrated tears began to course down her cheeks. If only he hadn't left, they could have talked about it. She could have told him that she could never, ever, go further with him than she already had. That it was out of the question. She hated that there was no dialogue around it. Why did people do that? Why couldn't they just be honest about their feelings?

But Hermione knew the answer to this already, when she actually stopped to think about it. Honesty changed things. There was a difference between laying in bed at night, quietly pining after a specific person, privately imagining them doing all manner of things to her; and _knowing _that the other person was thinking and feeling those same things, knowing that they noticed the curve of her breasts through her shirt or the way her cheeks flushed when she laughed. Really, it was easier to believe in lust that was unrequited, because then, the fantasies were half formed, they weren't something she believed could truly happen so the emotions weren't invested entirely. But when she knew that the other person felt the same, the fantasies became possibilities and the lust turned into a dull, throbbing ache that never went away.

Hermione did not want to feel lust like that. Though, she already feared that it was too late.

She'd felt a thrill when he'd kissed her, and yes, she could now admit that she felt attracted to him. She _wanted _to go further. It was reckless and stupid and she would be betraying so many of her friends but really, she wanted him. She wanted to see his body, see the dark mark. She wanted to kiss the marred flesh of his forearm, just to let him know that she wanted him as he was. That she accepted him.

And above all, she in turn wanted to feel accepted.

Hermione carefully placed the cup of tea he'd made her down on her coffee table, moved the now empty _cazan_ out of the way, and let her head crash down on the table top with a howl of frustration.

She was fucked. And not in a good way.

* * *

Three days later, Hermione was in a state of almost permanent hysteria. Each night, she was so thoroughly exhausted from the miles she'd walked in her own head that she had passed out rather than fallen asleep.

She hadn't heard from Draco at all.

Even Graham had noticed her tumultuous mood as she worked her shift on Saturday and insisted, much to her despair, that she take Sunday off, joking that perhaps she still needed to recover from a big New Years Eve. He would brook no argument when Hermione assured him that this was not the case and pleaded with him to allow her to work her Sunday shift.

Hermione spent Saturday alternating between having intense sexual fantasies involving her and Draco, that left her abdomen aching and her heart beating unevenly; and experiencing a crippling, psychopathic guilt over Isobel, Harry and Ron that had her wanting to rush to the toilet to vomit.

By Saturday night she was ready to throw in the towel. She planned to hole herself up in her flat and eat copious amounts of chocolate for the remainder of her now agonisingly free weekend.

What she was not expecting was Draco appearing in her lounge room just as she was running what she was sure would be the first in a series of very long, hot baths.

He did not knock, instead choosing to wander freely into her flat.

Hermione froze with her leg poised over the rim of the tub when she heard the noise of his arrival.

"Hermione?" he called from the lounge room.

"Um! Uh! I'm just… I'm in the… _Hold on_!" she yelled back, frantically shutting off the taps and throwing on her discarded clothes unceremoniously.

She raced into the lounge room to find him shrugging off his cloak. "Your top is inside out." he said, amused.

Hermione looked down to discover that he was right. She flashed him a nervous smile before rushing back into her bedroom to correct the oversight. When she returned, Draco was busy in the kitchen, making tea.

"So are you ready?" he asked conversationally as he added sugar to two steaming mugs.

"I… I guess." she replied, picking self consciously at her clothes.

He looked at her, smiling bemusedly, "What? Are you nervous?"

"No! I'm not nervous, why would I be nervous?!" she babbled in an uncharacteristically high voice. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

After a moment of awkward silence wherein Draco looked amused and Hermione shifted from one foot to the other, trying desperately to think of something to say, she turned on her heel and went to the lounge room.

She collapsed onto the couch, her head in her hands. Draco followed her after a minute, setting their cups of tea down on her coffee table. Much to her surprise, he sat down next to her, turning his body to face her.

"Perhaps we should talk." he said.

Hermione felt the words rising in her throat like vomit, and could do little to stop them pouring out of her mouth, "Never again! It can't happen again, ok? Harry and Ron would kill me. And Isobel… Oh my god… I _promised _her that nothing would happen! It's for the best. I just… I can't." she ranted.

Draco said nothing in response to this and when Hermione finally looked up at him, dragging her face out of her hands, he looked both confused and hurt.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. "That wasn't the conversation I was thinking of…"

"I just… What?"

"I was going to say we should talk about what's going to happen when we take the _Zeitei Otrava_… But this is far more comfortable." he said sarcastically.

"You… You wanted to talk about the potion?"

He nodded, turning his body away from her and crossing his arms. Hermione could clearly see the hurt he was feeling lying under his anger.

"I did. But no, let's talk about this. You've no doubt analysed the shit out of it so there's no point continuing before you've satisfied your need to spout your opinions. So go ahead. Feel free."

Yes, he was really angry.

"Um…" Hermione had not the slightest idea what to say in response to this. Everything he'd said was right, of course, but now that she saw how upset that was making him, she didn't want it to be. "Why don't you tell me _your_ opinions?" she asked quietly.

He laughed harshly, "Why would I? They clearly clash so spectacularly with your own so there's no point."

Hermione shook her head as if to clear it. "But… I don't understand. I haven't heard from you in three days. I guess I just thought you weren't interested in… You know… Anything else."

"For fucks sake, Hermione, not everything is about you! I didn't write or come over because _I_ needed to time to figure out what _I _wanted to do!" he threw his hands up in the air in frustration, "I kissed you didn't I?! Is that how little you think of me?! That I'd do that and then just fuck off?!"

Hermione ducked her head, feeling immeasurably guilty; this was exactly what she'd been thinking. She realised then that Draco had probably spent the last three days in much the same position as she had. He had just as much reason to feel guilty about wanting to be with her. Isobel was his friend too.

"I'm sorry." she said sincerely.

"Sorry for what? Sorry, you can't do this? Or sorry you made yet another ridiculous assumption about me?" he snapped.

Hermione restrained herself from reminding him that, given their past, the assumption wasn't so ridiculous. "Sorry for making an assumption. It would have been nice if you'd spoken to me before you left though."

He glared at her before taking a deep breath. "Fine. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you."

"Thanks." said Hermione stiffly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione's views on the matter had changed completely since he'd arrived. She was now trying to think of a way that she could be with him, without any of the ugly consequences. In the end, she concluded that she would only be able to do it if she told no one it was happening and that did not sit well with her. Hermione had always had an almost irrepressible need to be honest. She could handle keeping it from Harry and Ron, for now, as they weren't really a part of her life, but she would have to talk to Isobel. _That _was unavoidable.

For once, Hermione made the conscious decision to reign in her feelings. She was moving too far ahead of herself. When she thought about what she really, properly, wanted from Draco, she found that at this point, it wasn't love, wasn't a relationship. For now, she just wanted to touch him and she wanted him to touch _her_. She liked him, yes, but it was the lust that was driving her slightly ramshackle vessel at that moment and it was the lust that was making her headily fantasise about the future.

Bearing this in mind, Hermione concluded that perhaps her thoughts and feelings on the subject may be a little clearer once they'd gotten the touching out of the way.

She put her hand on his knee.

He looked down at it, then up at her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm being intimate. You do understand how intimacy works, don't you?" she snapped, stung, and withdrew her hand.

"Two seconds ago you told me that you couldn't do anything with me."

Hermione crossed her arms defensively, "Yeah, well, maybe I'd changed my mind."

They sunk back into a sullen silence. Hermione realised that though she teased Draco about his inexperience around women, she too was just as clueless. Even if she'd kissed and gone a little further than that with quite a few different men, the only one she knew how to be truly intimate with, the only one she had felt properly attracted to was Ron. And Draco and Ron were polar opposites, chalk and cheese. The brand of comfortable affection she shared with Ron would certainly not work with Draco.

She took a deep, steadying breath. "Alright, so what shall we do?" she asked him, trying to sound calm and diplomatic.

"There's nothing _to_ do." he said broodingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh, for fuck's sake, Draco. Stop sulking. I'm trying to have an honest conversation with you. I'm sorry that I lost my cool earlier; I was feeling insecure and freaked out. But I would _like _to talk about it."

Draco gave her a long look before he sighed. "Ok. Let's talk then."

Hermione sat up a little straighter and turned to him. "So how do you feel?"

"Am I talking to a mind healer right now?" he asked sarcastically. Hermione made a heroic effort to contain her emotions and simply continued to stare at him politely. Eventually he continued, in a stiff, halting voice. "I feel like I would like… To… Be intimate with you."

"So this is just about sex to you?!" Hermione almost snarled, barely keeping a hold of her anger.

"No! Fucking hell!" he threw his hands up in the air again and stood. He began pacing across the floor in front of her. "I don't know how to do this, alright?! I want… I think… Look." he stopped and stared at her determinedly. "Do you want to go round with me?"

Hermione giggled. "Go… go round?"

He gave her a withering glare. "You are not making this easy, Granger." he growled.

She tried to stifle her laughter behind her hand. "I know, sorry… Um… I might have to think about it. Is that alright?"

He nodded stiffly, seizing his cup of tea and taking a long sip. Hermione could see his hand shaking slightly.

After a few moments of silence in which he glared at the floor, Hermione cleared her throat nervously. "I was thinking though… Maybe… Could we kiss again?" she was conscious of the fact that she sounded like a child asking for a second helping of cake.

He gave her a look of incredulity before stomping over to seat himself on the couch next to her. Hermione barely had time to register what he was doing before he had leant in and pressed his lips to hers.

Immediately, she felt the same swooping sensation in her abdomen. She did not hesitate this time, to wrap her arms around him as his snaked around her waist. She could feel his frustration with her in his embrace but rather than being put off by it, it only spurned her on.

He hoisted her onto his lap so that their bodies could have a more complete kind of contact, without breaking the kiss. Her hands ran into his hair as his tongue filled her mouth.

They spent ten minutes happily entwined like this, the kiss becoming deeper and deeper. Both their breaths were shaky and frantic. She clutched at his shoulders urgently, feeling the pads of his fingers pressing into her hip and back.

To Hermione's confusion, she realised Draco was beginning to rock her slightly, backwards and forwards on his lap, pushing her body harder into his lap as he did so. When she noticed, suddenly, the hardness of his erection pressed into her thigh, she understood the movement. The warmth in her abdomen throbbed painfully and she was seized with the desire to straddle his lap, rather than sitting on him side saddle, so that she might be able to feel him rubbing against a place that was a little more erogenous than her upper thigh.

Without letting her tongue leave his mouth, Hermione squirmed and shifted until she had one leg supporting her on either side of his body. His hands sank down to cup her arse as he pushed up with his pelvis.

It was at this entirely inconvenient time, when she could feel him pressed almost painfully hard against her clit through her tights that he decided to stop. He pulled away from her, his hands moving from her arse to her shoulders just to make his intent clear.

"Wait." his words were hoarse and pained.

"What?" she said, in a voice that was far more demanding than she meant it. Draco looked slightly scared.

"I just… I think we should stop before things get… Carried away." he said, sounding as if this was the very last thing he wanted to do.

Hermione felt her logic in the far recesses of her mind, trying to battle it's way to the forefront through the many and monumental road blocks she'd put up to prevent it. She ignored it defiantly.

"But… I don't want to stop." she said, her voice deep and urgent.

Draco shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, at least I tried."

Her mouth crashed down on his again, little thrills of ecstasy racing up her spine as she proceeded to rock in his lap, grinding her pelvis against his roughly.

There was something so delightfully wrong about it and it was this wrongness that made it almost kinky, feeding her libido. It was incomprehensible that she could be in this position, totally unthinkable that Draco Malfoy was stimulating her the way he was, making her wet like this.

Her hips rolled across his legs as his hands grasped her arse again, squeezing it so hard it almost hurt.

But the pain was brilliant.

They _were_ getting carried away, even though it had not yet reached the point at which they were dragging off each other's clothes, their embrace was so intense, so heated. Hermione's fingers linked around the back of his neck and the feel of his heated skin against her own was something she was painfully aware of. She wanted their clothes of, wanted that heated contact all over her body. It felt unjustifiable that she was still clad in jeans and a singlet top and him in trousers and a long sleeved shirt. It went against her instincts that they still had these barriers between them.

Hermione was just about to begin fumbling with the buttons of his shirt when there was a knock on her front door. She wanted to weep as the two of them froze, mid kiss, and slowly turned their heads towards the door.

She pulled away from Draco and looked down at him. His face was flushed and his eyes glazed.

"Ignore it?" he asked hopefully, panting slightly.

Hermione shook her head, and with a herculean amount of self control, hoisted herself off him. The moment she stood up, his head fell into his hands, she could see his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

She went to the door, trying to think up a reason to justify cursing whoever was on the other side of it. When she turned the handle and hoisted it open, every bit of lust filled fog fled from her mind.

"Hermione!" cried Isobel, beaming and flinging her arms around Hermione's neck.

She let out a small "oh" as her friend collided with her body. "Wow! Isobel, I didn't think you'd be back so soon!"

Isobel laughed, "What are you talking about? School starts in two days, when else would I come back?"

Hermione chuckled nervously as Isobel pushed past her, into the flat. She was mentally preparing herself to make up some excuse as to Draco's presence, but was surprised when Isobel kept talking as if nothing was amiss.

"I've missed you so much! Oh, I have _so _much to tell you!" her friend cried from the kitchen, helping herself to a can of coke.

Hermione closed her door and cast her eyes about her lounge room bemusedly. Draco was not there. But she noticed her bedroom door was closed.

Isobel appeared at her side, clutching a coke, "What's wrong?" she asked in confusion as Hermione stared at the closed door to her bedroom.

"Nothing! Nothing at all. So," she sat down on the couch, patting the seat beside her invitingly, "How was it at Padma's?"

"It was pretty good. Her family were really nice… Though Parvati is a bit of a space cadet." Isobel responded, laughing.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I remember." she said vaguely.

Isobel stared at her for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "Are you alright? You're all flushed and your hair's a mess."

"Oh… Um… Yeah. I was asleep." she flailed, smiling shiftily.

Isobel gave her a shrewd look. "You look as if you've been having sex." she said, cheekily.

Hermione laughed hysterically. "Oh no, nothing like that!"

Isobel proceeded to give a long and detailed account of her holiday, very clearly excited to see Hermione again. Hermione listened to her friend politely, feeling increasingly more and more guilty about what she'd been doing mere seconds before Isobel's arrival. Her mind kept fluttering away into the bedroom where she was sure Draco was hiding.

Her friend was happier, calmer even. Isobel seemed stronger, and looked very much as if she'd had a pleasant holiday. Hermione wished she could say the same for herself.

After an hour or so, Isobel seemed to have exhausted herself and had nothing more to say. She pressed Hermione only a little about her own holiday asking several times if Hermione was ok, at which point she would just assure Isobel that she had had a long, trying shift and was still feeling tired.

At seven o'clock, Isobel announced her departure and left, assuring Hermione that she would come back the following night when Hermione had gotten some more sleep.

Hermione did not immediately go into the bedroom, instead choosing to sit down on the couch for a moment to collect herself. Isobel had seemed so happy, so carefree and Hermione sincerely wished she wasn't about to be the one who would crush that. She did not know the extent of Isobel's feelings for Draco but if they were anything like hers, well then both of them were in trouble.

She would have to tell her, even if she and Draco went no further than they already had. What she had done with him that afternoon had been betrayal enough. The New Years Eve kiss could have been reasonably passed off as getting caught up in the moment, but Hermione hardly thought she could use the same excuse for mounting him and gyrating in his lap.

She found she was scared of confronting Draco again, concerned that he would wish to continue where they had left off, but for Hermione, the mood had been killed. Her libido was out to lunch.

Now, she felt nothing but intense, over whelming confusion. Her body had betrayed her yet again by reacting to the caresses of someone who was, for all intents and purposes, wildly inappropriate. Her emotions were far more erratic and widely spread than they had been in a long time and she'd gotten herself into the unfortunate position of having to decide whether or not to reject Draco's request for her to 'go round' with him outright.

In the end, Hermione decided to practice some well honed avoidance. She knew she needed time to think about it but it wasn't happening that day. Her mind was still all tangled up and, despite the newfound clarity she'd gained since Isobel had arrived, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her mind would just fill up with fog again the moment she was within two inches of Draco. So, she chose to distract rather than dealing with the possible conversation or lack thereof that she was about to have with him if she went and found him in her bedroom.

Hermione bent down and retrieved a long wooden box from under her couch, flicking the catch and lifting the lid, to reveal the large store of _Zeitei Otrava_ that she and Draco had brewed on New Years Eve. She lifted two small vials containing the black, inky potion from the box and walked into the bedroom, without a backward glance.

She found Draco slumped on her bed, taking up more space than was necessary, reading _Bastet's Line_. Apparently, what she'd thought about the two inches was very, very wrong. She couldn't be in the same room with him before the fog started to shift over the floor of her mind. He looked up as she entered and leant against to doorframe to look at him for a moment.

"Sorry, I…" he started, looking a little shamefaced that he'd hidden from Isobel.

"Don't." Hermione cut across him, holding up a hand. She didn't want to hear it, didn't want him to speak. If he did, she knew she'd get caught up in another long and difficult conversation about sex and emotions. And it was time that she realised that she was just not equipped for that today.

She moved forward and crawled onto the bed to sit next to him, so that she was close but not too close. She reached out her hand and opened her fist to show Draco the vials she was carrying.

"Now?" he asked seriously, closing the book and sitting up.

"Yes." she replied firmly, defiantly. She was ready to focus on something other than her tumultuous personal life.

"Are you sure? I mean… Isobel…" he started but Hermione cut across him again.

"I don't want to talk about it." she said, tightly. She uncorked one of the little bottles and held it out to him. "You have to pour it into my hands so I can feed it to you."

With a look that told her he was humouring her, he took the vial wordlessly and, when she had cupped her hands before him, poured the liquid into the vessel she had created. He set the vial down and, without breaking eye contact, leant forward, supporting her small hands with his.

He gave her one last sceptical look before his lips came in contact with her fingertips again and again she felt the strange desire to moan as he pulled the potion across her palms, drinking hungrily. The black liquid dripped down her wrists and onto her bed sheets as he swallowed the last drop.

She watched him for a moment as his eyes bore into her own, the pupils expanding so that his irises were almost black, before she uncorked the second vial and tipped her head back to swallow it.

The potion burned in her mouth like menthol.

It tasted like blood. It tasted like him.

* * *

A/N Hello lovelies!

A few people have said that their having trouble keeping up with all these new potions and spells associated with _Bastet's Line_, so I am going to include a list here of all the one's we've already seen. But first, let's just rehash Grindelwald's introduction to _Bastet's Line_.

"_Bastet: Mistress of the Oracle, Great Conjuress of the Casket. The goddess to whom we pray when we raise our heads to the sky in search of answers. She holds dominion over our world, over sex, over magic, over fertility, music and healing. Oh, that I was born a woman, only then could I truly consider myself one of Her children. As a wizard, I am merely a servant. _

_"Daughter of the sun, She stands in defiance of grief._

"_I am not a practitioner only a scholar. I have been gifted some of the magics I speak of in this text, but many I have yet to explore. Only a daughter of Her, a giver of life, may truly experience the light that She has to offer. I have seen with my own eyes, women of great supremacy practicing the spells and brewing the potions I have detailed within though most did not understand the power they held. _

_"To truly see our magic, to understand the greatest gift that has been bestowed upon us, we must connect with Her. We do this on Her Line. The Dividing Line. Every magic has limits, to stand on those boundaries with arms open, we may look upon Her in all her beauty. We may begin to understand the world we inhabit._

"_If this text finds its way into the hands of a woman, I say this: your body is Her temple. Worship your body with your own hands, tend to the garden of your sexuality and you will find peace. Do this on Her Line and you will find enlightenment, power beyond the reaches of your imagination. You may allow another to worship Her through you and you will give him enlightenment as a gift, a gift that he must love and revere as he does your body and your mind. The highest peak of pleasure and power lies in wait for you, sister, if you will just turn the page._"

Spells and potions seen in _Bastet's Line_:

- _Virtus Lucis – _gives the drinker the power to conjure light in their hands. Seen in Chapter 19 wherein Hermione and Draco brewed the potion together and then, as the recipe dictated, she fed it to him with her own hands, in order to give him the gift. Initially, the potion causes them both to become moderately intoxicated. But once this effect wears off, Draco will be able to conjure the light without these side effects.

Here's what Grindelwald has to say on the subject:

"_The Virtus Lucis potion:_

_"Through the ages we have heard tell of wizards who could conjure light without aid of a wand. Though these tales have been converted into the stuff of legends, of myth, I have been gifted with this precious, invaluable endowment by a wise woman I met while travelling through Yugoslavia. Using blood harvested from the palms of my hands, this woman brewed the potion detailed below on Bastet's Line. She gave me the gift of light. To hold the sun in one's hands is a mighty power. A light when all others are lost._"

- _Substantia –_ a potion used to capture the essence of the drinker, to be used in other potions.

This is more of an ingredient than a potion in itself. As the magic of the Dividing Line is deeply personal and each person who brews or casts the spells specific to the Line, everyone experiences the magic differently. It's based almost entirely on what goes on within the human mind. So _Substantia _is added as an ingredient to most potions applicable in order to allow the brewer/drinker to fully immerse their essence into the potion so that it may work specifically to them.

- _Apicem_ – To give someone a spontaneous orgasm. This one's pretty self explanatory isn't it? This spell is one of the only ones in _Bastet's Line _that can be cast by a man, hence Draco's obviously innocent desire to try it.

Here's what Grindelwald has to say on it:

"_Apicem: a spell to bring a woman to a spontaneous climax and one of the only I have yet heard of that can be cast by a male. The witches I have spoken to have said that this is because the goddess has a sense of joviality and believes that a woman should be given this succulent, sensual reward at every available opportunity. I, myself, have had the pleasure to…_"

You get the idea.

- _Vita _– A common blood retrieval spell that allows the castor to draw blood, whether by force or with consent, from any area of the body. Some potions require a certain type of blood, such as the _Zeitei Otrava_ which asks for heart blood and this spell makes acquiring this blood easy and far less messy. The castor is required to point their wand at the desire area from which the blood is required and say the incantation. Once this is done, the blood drawn will damn itself in the castor's hand until he or she is ready to release it. As Hermione and Draco discovered, this is a rather uncomfortable feeling.

- _Zeitei Otrava _– The big one. The goddess's poison. This potion allows two people (for it must be brewed by a couple) to see their own and each other's magic for the duration of the potion's effects, which is about an hour. At this point, I won't give anything else away as I don't want to spoil it for anyone!

- _Auxilium – _This is a spell that a witch may cast in order to let the Goddess move through her and make her emotions corporeal. For example, Hermione used it to make Harry leave because she feared him. So, the goddess recognised Hermione's desire to feel safe and helped to remove the danger.

Here's what Grindelwald has to say about it:

"_In Slovakia, I was given the opportunity to be present at a ritual, performed on the winter solstice, to bless the earth for the coming spring. I was told by a fellow spectator that four of their most powerful witches were to cast a spell that was to bring the goddess into their bodies so that She may move through them. I witnessed these four women gather on Her Line together. They pressed their wands to the earth at their feet and each incanted '_Auxilium'_. They then used their own hands to bring themselves to climax so that they may sanctify the land with their excretions. The spell helped in their arousal and brought them faster and harder to their end._

_"Once the ritual was finished, I questioned one of these women. She told me that the spell allowed the Goddess to meld with their minds and make their feelings corporeal. When I asked her if the spell could be used in any other setting, she appeared most offended, but I have surmised that any witch may cast this spell when she feels in need of it though I have no experimental proof. I was never given the opportunity to see it used in any other environment other than the ritualistic circle._

_Imagine what power this spell might offer if one might cast it and have their deepest feelings satisfied and made real? Could a woman wield it against another person? Could it cause death or torture? Could it heal? I do not know how far the power of this spell stretches and it pains me that I may never find out._"

So I hope that was helpful! Thanks as always for the love, and sorry I can't reply to your reviews just yet!


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

UNTOUCHABLE FACE

_"To tell you the truth I prefer the worst of you."_

Hermione felt the effects almost immediately. The room had gone strangely dark and her head was spinning slightly. The colours around her had bled out to make the world black and white and oddly fuzzy, like an old black and white film. There seemed nothing different around her aside from the strange darkness and she wondered briefly if the potion had not worked.

"Oh!" Draco breathed, his eyes focused around Hermione's body.

"What?" she asked, looking down at herself to find nothing different aside from the fact that her once red singlet top was now a murky black. She stared back up at Draco as his eyes flitted about the room, noticing that they were moist, as if he were on the verge of tears.

Hermione was about to question him again when suddenly, colour bloomed in her vision, so intense that it made her eyes hurt and so beautiful she understood completely the tears building in Draco's eyes and felt them forming on her lower eye lids as well. Most of the colour and light came from Draco, who was pulsing with a soft blue light, marred only by the gashes of red and black surrounding his right arm and his head. The floor and walls seemed to be glowing slightly green and when Hermione stood up and moved away from the bed, she felt like she was walking through a low hanging green mist that was clinging to the foundations of her flat. She looked down at her own hands, which pulsed blue, the same as Draco's, and realised that her right arm was free of the red and black smears.

"I think… I think that's the dark mark." she breathed, gesturing towards his arm. He looked down and groaned as if in pain, when he saw the smears on his aura. Hermione was seized with a fierce empathy, her heart aching for him. She had not yet seen the dark mark as he always wore long sleeved shirts, but could not even begin to imagine how it must feel for him to have to live with it every day, stare down at it knowing that it was a token of his stupid mistakes, of his parent's stupid mistakes. She felt his abandonment then, as strongly as her own; her heart clenched in her chest at the thought of how it would hurt him having a father who would rather murder and torture people than be there for his son, a father that was now in prison. Lucius's love of Voldemort, his love for the safety of his own skin, of power, outweighed his love for Draco. He'd abandoned his son.

Hermione went to Draco immediately as the tears stung her eyes at the sight of him staring down at his arm, sadness etched into his features. She took his hand in hers to comfort him.

When their skin connected, Hermione felt the same warmth she'd felt when they'd taken the _Virtus Lucis_ seeping into her hand. But it was softer, less urgent and less overwhelming. The seam where her skin pressed into his was throbbing a deeper blue, like the ocean at night, under the light of a full moon. She lifted her left hand, the one that was not clutching Draco's, and pressed a fingertip to his cheek, watching, enthralled, as the dark blue glowed and faded slowly when she removed it. Draco's head turned up towards her as she did this, not in the least bit confused. He laid a hand on her right forearm and, when he removed it, witnessed the same effect.

They smiled at each other, each silently acknowledging their gratitude for being part of this awe inspiring experience.

Hermione slowly sank down onto the bed next to Draco so that they were seated side by side. Their arms rested into the dent between their bodies as they continued to hold hands. Draco slowly withdrew his hand and turned her arm over so that the soft skin of the underside of her forearm faced the ceiling. She watched as he used the tip of a finger to draw a word on her skin.

_Guilt_.

It glowed dark blue for a moment before fading. Hermione reached out with her left hand and clumsily drew a response on her own skin.

_Me too._

They watched as the dark blue faded, both sitting in silence, staring at the place the words had been drawn on her arm. Hermione's mind was strangely blank, filled with nothing but the here and now, nothing but what she was experiencing, the _Zeitei Otrava_. It was a relief after what felt like years and years of anxiety.

Hermione watched as Draco lifted his hands suddenly, holding them out in front of his body, his face contorting in concentration. After a moment, the beautiful green light that she had gifted him with the _Virtus Lucis _bloomed in his cupped palms. It was still eerily and serenely green, like sunlight filtering through the treetops of a forest, but now, Hermione could see tiny spider web like tendrils weaving out of the glowing ball of luminosity, writhing like human hair in water. She realised this was the magic. As she leant closer she noticed that the tendrils were curling up Draco's arm, coming out from under his skin.

"You see it?" he asked in a whisper.

Hermione nodded and reached out a hand, the strands moved as one in the same direction, almost reaching out to her skin as it drew closer. When she was a few inches away from Draco's ball of light, they connected and sank down into her flesh just as the warmth of his light flooded up her hand. She could see them; many glittering lines connecting her fingers with the light.

Hermione didn't know if he was capable of doing what he'd done last time they were in this position without taking the _Virtus Lucis _potion, but she was not willing to chance it and so, carefully withdrew her hand from the light. The shimmering stands pulled out of her skin stickily.

"I want to try casting a spell." she said, again in a whisper. It was as if her flat had become a temple, or a library; speaking loudly felt almost blasphemous.

Draco nodded understandingly and stood to follow her into the lounge room. Again, the world was black and white here, but Hermione noticed a few minor differences. Not only were the floor and walls covered in the same greenish mist but there was a warm light seeping out of her beaded bag, her record player and, strangely enough, off Draco's cloak, which was slung over the arm of her lounge. She hazarded a guess that it was because these objects were in some way magical or had been altered by a spell. The bag, of course, held an undetectable extension charm and the record player was a wizarding device that worked off magic rather than electricity. But she could not explain Draco's cloak and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Hermione bent to pick up her wand from where it had fallen when she and Draco had embraced on the couch earlier and noticed as she did that the same hair like tendrils pulsed out of it when she touched it. The tendrils dove happily into her skin as her aura merged with the thin stick of wood. Soon, none of them were visible outside her body, but she could see faintly, if she looked very closely, that they now pulsed underneath her skin and inside the wood of her wand.

"Draco." she said quietly, "Come here and look at this."

He approached her and took her wand when she offered it to him. To Hermione's surprise, the tendrils did not dive into his flesh as they had with her but simply hung over the surface as if his skin was too hard to penetrate.

"What am I looking at?" he asked, confused. Hermione cast about the room until she spotted Draco's wand on the table.

"Watch." she picked it up. Again, the tendrils burst from the wand but like with Draco, they did not sink into her skin. Hermione held her hand out, gesturing for them to swap. When her palm connected with her wand, the tendrils dove into her flesh again and Draco gave a small, excited gasp as his did the same.

"So, it's true what they say. The wand chooses the wizard." she laughed quietly.

"Yeah." he grinned at her.

"What should I cast?"

Draco took a minute to think about this. "I think... _Auxilium_."

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath. She pointed her wand at the floor and whispered the incantation, not entirely sure what to expect.

Draco gasped as the green mist that hung around the floor suddenly shifted violently and threw out pulsing, luminescent green strands towards Hermione, penetrating every inch of her skin as the usual heat moved up from her feet and through her body. The movement felt so out of place in the soft atmosphere of the potion induced haze that Hermione felt fear and shock bubble up in her stomach and was seized with the desire to throw the tendrils off her. Instantly they softened in light as they sunk into her flesh, sensing her distress, but when she looked down, she could still see them moving around under her skin like veins, bright and radiant.

"You're... You're glowing." said Draco reverentially.

Hermione tried to relax into the spell, assuring herself there was no difference here than when she took it any other time, except that she could _see_ the magic. Of course, the spell sensed her wish for inner tranquillity and instantly, Hermione began to feel waves of calm and goodwill washing over her. She felt love, pure love, moving through every inch of her being. She looked over at Draco, who was standing, staring at her as if she were some kind of elemental being. She lifted her arm towards him, wishing him to be near her, and watched as the strands flew gracefully out of her fingers to wrap around him and nudge him to move towards her. He did.

As he drew near, her hand drifted up to caress his face. The tendrils seeped out from under her flesh and seemed to kiss the area around the point at which she was touching his cheek. He sighed contentedly and smiled. She smiled back.

"This is amazing." she said, tears building in her eyes again.

He nodded and moved a hand to run through the soft hairs on the back of her neck. Hermione lifted her face, noting his closeness, and closed the space between them to kiss him softly.

One of his hands found its way around her waist to press into the small of her back, urging her to push her body up against him. Hermione returned this gesture by wrapping her arms around him tightly. The kiss was just like she'd already experienced, but without the pulsing heat in her abdomen. There was nothing sexual here. She felt as if she were worshipping at the altar of a god.

Suddenly, Hermione and Draco both drew back, breaking their kiss at exactly the same time. A sort of music had filled air; it didn't seem to be coming from the record player or from outside, but from the tendrils themselves which, they now noticed, had wrapped around their connected bodies, encasing them in a faintly glowing green cage.

Hermione stared up at Draco in shock. The sound was achingly beautiful, the notes soft hums that buzzed through her veins, sending shivers up her spine.

She began to notice, as if it had always been there but she was only just listening to it properly, a woman's voice singing, almost chanting along with the music. But, Hermione realised, it was not just one voice, but many, echoing each other, harmonising.

"_Born from the yew tree down by the reeds,  
Swims the priestess of old in the warm summer breeze,  
She once held the key, now she drifts out to sea,  
With the souls left unbroken by all that they've seen._

_Down to the sea, a twisted path leads,  
The preacher who breathes out a cold winter breeze,  
Down to the sea, blood blooming weeds  
Chase those who go dancing in sad moonlit dreams._

_Nobody knows, nobody sees,  
The priestess of old, out in the sea._"

The voices drifted away, as if the singers had moved into another room. Hermione's heart raced and her hands began to shake with suppressed emotion.

"Did you hear...?" she whispered.

He nodded, smiling.

"Was it... Do you think..." she stuttered, feeling her legs become weak with the emotion she was feeling.

"Bastet." he breathed, continuing to smile down at Hermione.

She reeled slightly, totally overcome with the implications of this. In the back of her mind, her inner voice had begun to chatter again, urging her to question, to seek answers. Strangely, it was Luna's voice that broke through, encouraging her to accept the unexplainable and just be in the moment. Her mind rebelled slightly against this.

She and Draco stood like this for some time, staring at each other and around themselves at the beautiful light, each lost in their own thoughts.

"How long has it been?" Hermione asked after a while, withdrawing her arms from around Draco's neck so that he might be able to look at his watch.

"Almost an hour." he responded, glancing at his wrist.

"We should sleep. Teodora said that as the potion wears off, the best thing to do is sleep." her voice was slightly high as panic began to darken the edges of her vision. She noticed the tendrils, though still present, were beginning to fade, while the colour had started to leak back into her everyday surroundings.

Draco looked concerned and nodded, taking her by the hand and leading her into the bedroom. They both climbed onto the bed, fully clothed. They lay on their sides, facing each other, a foot of space hanging between them. Hermione took an unsteady breath, noticing that her hands had begun to shake.

"Are you alright?" asked Draco, his speech muffled by the pillow.

Hermione nodded uncertainly, "Yeah... It's just the unfamiliar feeling. It triggers me. What about you?"

"I feel fine... A bit... Overwhelmed but... Yeah." Hermione envied his apparent tranquillity, thinking quietly that he sounded a little drunk. He gave her an understanding smile as her hands clutched the blankets underneath her tightly. "It's ok." he said softly, "You're safe."

She smiled, grateful that he'd known exactly what she'd needed to hear, and closed her eyes, taking one last deep breath before drifting into sleep.

She could feel Draco's breath on her face.

* * *

Hermione awoke a few hours later to find her flat in total darkness. She could hear Draco breathing softly beside her, still fast asleep, she was only able to make out his silhouette in the inky blackness.

She groped for her wand, which she vaguely remembered leaving on her nightstand. When found, she whispered, "_Lumos_." and a dull sort of light sparked at the end. It was feeble compared to the light she'd already seen that night but it still made her eyes sting. Her head felt heavy, almost as if she'd had too much to drink.

Hermione sat up, scrubbing at her face tiredly. The memory of her and Draco's experience with the _Zeitei Otrava_ felt far too intense, and so her mind was shying away from it. It was all a confusing blur of colour and light and emotion.

She stood slowly, careful not to move the bed so that Draco remained asleep. She needed a few minutes to herself.

Hermione made her way into the kitchen, lighting lanterns as she went and squinting in the brightness. She grabbed, from her cupboards, the makings for tea and set the jug to boil. Her eyes drifted out of focus as, little by little, her mind began to let out little snippets of memory for her perusal.

The light, the colour, the tendrils, the voices, the warmth.

All in all, it had been a strange night.

What bothered Hermione the most about it was that so many of the things she'd experienced defied all logical explanation. She'd felt Bastet's love, heard her voice in song. But was it really Bastet? Or was Bastet just an easy name to give something unidentifiable? Perhaps it was the chanting of the many other women who had taken the potion, transcended through the ages, through time and space, so that they could be heard in her living room? The potion was sacred in northern Europe and Hermione knew that sacred sorts of magic often moved in ways too difficult to understand. Take Harry and Voldemort for example. No matter how much anyone researched their bond, it would never be explained properly.

At that thought, she began to imagine all the different ways in which she might experiment with the _Zeitei Otrava._ But almost as soon as it came, the idea dispersed. Something told Hermione that she was probably better off leaving the potion as it was, and simply accept that she had, that night, experienced something great, something beautiful, something that had left her awestruck.

Seeing her own magic had been just as indescribably wonderful as she'd though it would be. Hermione had never imagined magic moving like that, in tendrils and strands, waving like wheat in the breeze, waiting for something to engage with. Strangely, she had no more desire to research, didn't want to push the _Zeitei Otrava _any further. Of course, she and Draco would continue working through the magic of the Dividing Line; there were so many new things to look into, such as Grindelwald's use of them in his war. But she really wanted to leave the Goddess's Poison alone. It was perfect, beautiful as it was and Hermione had no interest in trying to bend it to her will or use it to further her own power.

It was educational. And that was all. She felt in her guts that it was a potion meant for observation. She'd wanted to _see _her magic, but did not want to attempt to change it.

Maybe, at some point, she might look down the road of using the _Zeitei Otrava _so that she may better understand how her magic worked, how it moved about her space, but that was it. And if she chose that path, it was a long way in her future. First, she had to get her schooling out of the way, get through this year, and then decide what she was going to do with her life.

It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to her. Quite often she questioned herself about what lay in wait for her on the other side of Hogwarts, what she could do.

She knew that she had a position with the Aurors waiting for her should she choose to take it, but the job held little appeal for Hermione. The war had already damaged her enough. Plus, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Harry and Ron were heading in that direction, or they had been last she'd checked, and she did not wish to spend the rest of her life dancing around the awkwardness of her past with the both of them.

Perhaps law might be better suited to her? If that were her chosen vocation, she would be able to prevent people like Narcissa Malfoy being put in Azkaban. She might be able to do some good in the world rather than just fighting against the evil polluting it as she would if she were an Auror.

"Hey." said a croaky voice from behind her, making Hermione jump in surprise as Draco tore her from her reverie. He was good at that.

He looked ruffled from sleep, his usually sleek blonde hair sticking up in odd peaks and angles. His eyes were squinting in the harsh light of her kitchen. He yawned widely and stretched. "Are you making one for me?"

She smiled, "Of course. I don't want to risk your wrath."

He chuckled and moved past her to grab some biscuits from the pantry. As he did, his hand landed on the small of her back and it was all she could do not to stiffen visibly.

It was an unremarkable gesture of affection, but the fact that it was unremarkable was what made her worry. It spoke volumes.

Draco placing his hand on the small of her back as he walked past her told her that they had broken down the boundaries of personal space; it told her he was comfortable touching her in an entirely non-sexual way. It wasn't intimacy, it wasn't sensuality, it was just affection. Plain and simple.

With a jolt Hermione realised that it wasn't something she particularly minded, she wasn't bothered anymore that he continued to break down the many walls she'd put up to keep him out. It was just a shock every time she noticed it happening.

There was no point fighting it anymore, she couldn't be bothered really. She liked his presence in her life, she liked him in her flat and she liked him touching her. So, why not?

It was all Hermione could do not to turn to him right then and tell him that yes, she would 'go round' with him. She was sorely tempted before she remembered Isobel and she decided then and there that she was going to have that awkward conversation no matter what it cost her in terms of guilt or pain. It was time she behaved like an adult, followed Draco's example, and stood up to take responsibility for her actions and her feelings.

Hermione finished making the tea and followed Draco into the lounge room. They sat together on the couch and she curled her legs under her as she sipped the warm, refreshing beverage. Both of them seemed disinclined to talk at that point and Hermione was quite happy to sit in silence and let her mind wander.

After a few minutes, Draco turned to her, an inquisitive look on his face. "Hermione?"

"Mmm?" she responded, her voice vague.

"Did you think about being with me before Isobel said anything?"

She balked slightly, quietly shocked, both because she was surprised he did not want to talk about his experience of taking the potion and also because he'd picked such an odd time to have _that_ conversation.

Hermione thought about it for a minute before she spoke, silently sipping her tea as his words rolled around in her head. "Maybe. I'm not sure. If I did, I don't think I ever let it get very far. I think I'm only just starting to realise how stubborn I can be." she said, wryly.

He laughed and said, with a sardonic edge to his voice, "Really?"

Hermione nodded, smiling. "After Isobel told me what she thought, I guess it sort of took root. I tried to ignore it but..." she shrugged to show her obvious confusion at her own mental processes before she asked, "What about you? When did you start thinking of _me_?"

Draco responded quickly, as if he had the answer to this question ready and waiting. "From the day that you came to class and you hadn't taken the _Rusine_ potion. When I saw into your mind."

Hermione paled. She knew that the next logical question would be to ask what he'd seen in there but, right then, she didn't want to know. She was feeling happy sitting on her couch with Draco and drinking tea. She didn't want to taint it by remembering that black time.

Instead, she simply nodded, praying that he would not push the subject. When it seemed as if he had nothing more to say, she relaxed and let her mind wander again and again, after a few minutes, he spoke. Though this time, his voice was far less confident.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Draco?"

He fidgeted, looking down at his hands in his lap. She thought that he looked very much like a schoolboy who'd been caught doing the wrong thing. "I just... I just wanted to say... I'm sorry for calling you a mudblood."

She remained silent for a moment, staring at him in shock and confusion. "Why are you saying sorry now?" she asked somewhat defensively as all the old wounds began to tingle painfully.

"I just thought that... Seeing as we're... Doing what we're doing... You deserve an apology. So, I'm sorry." he swallowed nervously and rested his head in his hands. After a moment he shook himself and continued in a much stronger voice, "Actually, no. I'm not sorry for calling you a mudblood. I'm sorry I meant it. I wish... I wish there was some way you could understand that I didn't choose this life. I was just born into it. But I'm not going to pretend it didn't fit with me, that I didn't like it. I'm not going to pretend that I didn't _hate you_. I did. More than you can imagine. I guess I felt threatened by you. I'd always been told that being muggleborn made you... inferior, unrefined, dirty. But... You've never been any of those things. You're just as smart and logical as me and that just didn't fit with everything I'd been told, everything I believed. So I really meant it each and every time I called you _mudblood._"

He looked at her and she nodded, still slightly overwhelmed by his sudden openness and honesty. "I understand Draco. I get it."

He continued to stare down at his hands, frowning. After a moment he looked up at her, "I think you were right to be unsure about me when we first went back to Hogwarts. I'd realised by then that there isn't any perfection in being pure blood. I'd realised it, Hermione, but I didn't quite _feel_ it. I was still questioning it and quietly thinking that maybe, just maybe, my father had been right all along."

Hermione did not feel the fierce triumph she would have felt three months ago at this news, instead she felt fear. Fear that she'd been wrong to trust Draco, wrong to let him touch her. But before she could say anything, before she could express this, he continued.

"But now, I look at the world I grew up in and see that everything was just always so... So _cruel_. It wasn't a great place to be. There was no warmth or happiness and I wonder now what exactly they were all trying to achieve. We had money and status and power but that didn't _do _anything in the end did it? Because underneath all that we were still fucked up. The day they took my father to Azkaban, I wore my best suit. It cost over two hundred galleons. But I thought, even if I had the money to buy this suit, and I look pretty good in it, _he_ still fucked up and landed in Azkaban. While I wore that suit."

She was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

"It didn't change anything... Not a thing." he paused a moment to wipe his face on his sleeve. Hermione's heart leapt into her throat at what he said next, "You know, that night Bellatrix tortured you was just... Fuck. It was _bad_. I was so... I really wanted to believe you deserved what she was doing to you! But I just couldn't get away from the fact that you hadn't fucking _done _anything! I remember, I still thought I was better than you, superior to you, of course, but I couldn't make my mind accept the fact that you deserved torture just because of that." he looked Hermione full in the face, "_That's_ why I didn't do anything about it. It wasn't because I was scared of Bellatrix or Riddle, though I _was_; it was because I felt like my head was on fire, because I was finally, _finally_, beginning to question some of it. For some reason the dark places in my life led me to that room and made me watch what the people I loved were capable of and see that it might just be wrong."

Suddenly, his face contorted in agony and Hermione almost recoiled from the sight. "Since that night, I've slowly come to realise that I'm capable of it too. I don't like that. I don't feel like I can be a part of society when I can lift my wand and cast an unforgiveable without thought. The remorse is there, oh yes," he laughed ruefully, "But not until later. Not until afterwards. For you, Hermione, it's easy. The answer is obvious. If you are presented with the opportunity to actually torture someone you really hate, to cause them real pain, you don't do it. No question, no pause for thought. You just don't. I am living proof of that. It's an obvious decision. But for me it's not. Can you understand what that feels like?"

Hermione sighed as his face turned to her, pleading, as if asking her to somehow make everything he felt ok, to make him a good person. She almost reached out a hand to comfort him, but couldn't. "Logically, Draco, I understand. But emotionally, I don't. I could have no way of knowing what that feels like."

"Do you pity me?" he asked quietly.

"I always have." she replied.

"Maybe that's what makes you the better person." he said, his voice cracking.

Hermione hesitated before saying, "The world isn't split up into good people and Death Eaters. Some of us are allowed to just be as we are. And... I... I like you. Just as you are." she looked pointedly down at his right arm, "Scars and all."

He smiled at her weakly and nodded, his eyes still misted with tears. Hermione moved across the couch to sidle into his side. He lifted his arm once he realised what she was doing and she rested her head into the nook of his underarm, her cheek pressed into his chest. It was the familiarity all over again, the broken down walls. It was effortless and easy, like they had been close for years. But they hadn't.

Neither of them spoke for some time. Everything Draco had said was repeating over in Hermione's head. Much of it gave her cause to fear him, to doubt him, but she found that she valued his honesty far higher than any of that.

And another wall was broken down.


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

ASKING TOO MUCH

_"Just lay yourself down on the line and I might lay myself down by you but don't sit behind your eyes and wait for me to surprise you."_

Hermione and Draco shared a bed that night, deciding that by the time they'd finished talking it was far too late for him to go back to Hogwarts. Hermione thought privately that he'd previously left her flat at far later hours than that but, for her own reasons, kept her mouth shut.

She was happy to have Draco staying with her. It was a refreshing change from feeling the usual disappointment when he had to leave on prior occasions. Unfortunately though, despite her pleasure at his presence, she had a rather restless night when they finally retired to her bed. She'd gotten so used to having her queen four poster to herself that it felt jarring each and every time she rolled over and found him there, peaceful in sleep, or when she'd wake up, thinking herself to be alone before she heard his soft breathing.

At times, throughout the night, she felt jealous of him. Why could he sleep so easily beside her and yet she was up and down all night? She dozed in half hour segments and yet _he_ slept on and on without interruption.

Just like when they'd taken the Goddess's Poison, the two of them slept in their clothes, not even beginning any awkward conversations about other arrangements regarding their attire. To her gratitude as well as her consternation, he had not attempted to touch her during the night, had not snuggled up to her back as Ron used to. She liked that. It felt more companionable to sleep side by side but independent of each other. It suited their relationship. The only time he had come near her at all was when she'd woken up early in the morning, the light outside the window still very dark and grey, to find his hand nestled into her hair. Whether he'd done this on purpose or had simply gotten tangled, Hermione didn't know. And she wasn't about to ask.

At around six am, she finally dropped off into a semi peaceful sleep, hoping as she did that she would remain that way all day. She was woken however only hours later by Draco.

"Hermione?" he was shaking her shoulder and she had an irrepressible feeling of déjà vu. "Hermione?"

"Fuck off." she grunted, turning away from him.

He laughed and she felt the bed sink down behind her. "You know, I was only just wondering why it is that I like you as much as I do, but thanks for reminding me." he took a moment to reflect on this before Hermione heard the clink of a cup hitting wood. "I made tea."

Hermione rolled over to stare at him, bleary eyed. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking down at her, his hands folded in his lap. The sun was spilling into the room through the cracks in her curtains. He looked peaceful, content, and comfortable.

"You made me tea?" she rasped sleepily.

He nodded, looking a tad pleased with himself, "I did."

She caught a glimpse of the cup sitting on the nightstand and drew her blankets up over her head with a groan as something sunk into place inside her head. "Oh no... Oh fuck..."

"What? What's wrong?" he asked, clearly bemused by her behaviour.

"This is... This is actually happening isn't it?" she said from underneath her doona.

"What on earth are you talking about?" his voice was muffled.

She slowly lowered the blanket and looked at him, her eyes wide. "We're... in a... _relationship_." she whispered the last word as if it were a particularly nasty expletive.

"Well, I was under the impression that you hadn't actually given an answer to that particular question yet, so..." he trailed off, leaving the unspoken query hanging in the air between them. Hermione wanted to crawl under the covers again and stay there forever.

When she made no attempt to answer him, he said, in a voice so quiet she almost thought she'd misheard him, "I'd like it if we were."

Hermione screwed up her face in frustration, knowing that there was no way she could avoid this conversation, try as she might. "I know. But Draco, this is all wrong. You're lonely, and I get it. I am too, really. But we can't do it like this." She ran her hands through her hair, realising that she didn't entirely believe what she was saying. She couldn't pin point her exact reasons for not wanting to take that step with him just yet, couldn't decide why she couldn't just say yes. Perhaps there was still a lingering loyalty to Ron or Harry? She'd promised herself the night before that she'd talk to Isobel before she gave Draco an answer, but she realised then that the answer would be just as hard to give even then.

"You'd rather I was calling you a mudblood? Would you rather be cursing me? Hermione, I think this is as good as it's going to get." he said, smiling slightly.

"What a repulsive idea!" she scoffed.

He shrugged, "I know. But it doesn't stop it appealing to me. I'm not going to beg you, and I'd rather you didn't make me. Just tell me if this is something you might want."

She realised he was right. Hermione was so wrapped up in waiting for it to be perfect that she was missing the forest for the trees. He was there with her, she liked that he was there. She wanted him around; she liked him as a human being. Sure, it was all based in ruin; they were both messed up people, people who had an innumerable amount of issues to deal with. But did that really matter in the end? Wasn't it just enough that he made her happy? Wasn't it just enough that his smile was her favourite kind of smile, that he held her hand when she was upset, that he made her the perfect kind of tea?

"It's not as easy as that." said Hermione, to herself as well as to him. She laughed humourlessly.

"Yes it is. Just say yes or no."

Hermione looked at him squarely and narrowed her eyes. "Tell me, when you started thinking about doing this after the day when you entered my mind, was it as easy as that? Were you able to just decide suddenly, that this is something you wanted?" he frowned and looked away from her. "Of course it wasn't! You would have agonised over it too, Draco! So you can't just ask me to say yes or no. Offer me the same courtesy you offered yourself."

He stared at her in silence for a moment, brow furrowed. "Fine. I will."

He made to stand up but Hermione put out her hand, feeling almost instantly guilty that she'd upset him. "Look. Cards on the table. Yes it is something I want, but that's quite frightening. I'm sure you can understand that! I want to say yes... But... Well, I'd like to talk to Isobel before we... Get too ahead of ourselves. Ok?"

He nodded, looking reassured. Hermione felt relieved, overjoyed and alarmed, she hadn't told him yes, but she may as well have.

After a moment, he stood. "Alright, well... I'm going to go."

"What? Why?" she asked, realising that it sounded like she was pouting.

He laughed, "Because if I stay and have to look at you lying in bed like that with your hair all mussed like that, I might just... uh... _get too ahead of myself_."

Hermione giggled in spite of herself. He bent down, pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, "I'll see you tomorrow in Defence Against the Dark Arts." he walked towards her bedroom door, saying over his shoulder, "And for the love of god, _don't _over analyse, alright?"

She laughed and threw a pillow at him, "Alright! Get out."

He grinned at her and swept out of the room. Hermione collapsed back down onto her bed, grinning as she heard her front door close behind him. She felt unequivocally, that what she needed in that moment was a nice, hard slap across the face.

* * *

The rest of the day, Hermione walked moonily about her flat, picking things up and putting them down again and staring off into space smiling. Strangely, Draco's words had calmed her frayed mind. She wasn't overcome with guilt as she had been, but instead felt as if she had faith in the workings of the universe. She felt that everything would be alright in the end.

Draco had told her not to over analyse and it felt nice to just be able to give into that.

With the guilt gone, she was perfectly at liberty to behave like a dewy eyed schoolgirl. And this is exactly what she did, with relish. Hermione found herself giggling intermittently when she remembered something in particular that Draco had said that had made her laugh, she kept getting anticipatory little swooping sensations in her stomach every time she thought of their heated embrace on the couch.

Sufficed to say, her day wasn't the most productive.

By dinnertime her mood was on such a high that receiving a letter from Isobel saying that she couldn't come by that night didn't even begin to darken it. Of course, the guilt was there, waiting in the back of her mind to rear its ugly head; she was daunted by the idea of talking to her friend but she was apart from it. She was happy that she was able to have the whole day just to herself to spend daydreaming and smiling serenely.

Thus, at eight o'clock when there was a knock on her front door, Hermione was confused. She knew that it couldn't be Isobel, as the other girl had already cancelled; and Hermione knew Draco well enough by then to know that he'd be giving her space and wouldn't come by again for a little while.

When she opened the door, her good mood vanished like water down a drain. It almost literally sunk out of her in one exhaled breath.

"Hello Hermione." his voice was sad, dejected. He looked sick.

"Hello Harry."

"Can I come in?"

Hermione stepped aside instantly to allow him to pass. There was no way that she could possibly describe her emotions at that moment. She was shocked and confused, a monumental fall from the happiness she'd felt all day. She felt winded.

He entered her lounge room and slumped down onto her couch.

"Would... would you like a cup of tea?" she asked, her voice unnaturally high.

He nodded and she went into the kitchen. Her hands were shaking almost uncontrollably as she fixed their drinks, almost upending the sugar bowl into her own cup because of this. Hermione dawdled over adding the water and milk to the cups in front of her. She didn't want to leave the kitchen, didn't want to face Harry again. She weighed up the pros and cons of escaping through her kitchen window before a voice in the back of her mind told her she was better than that.

When she returned to the lounge room, she sat down on the floor opposite him, their tea sitting on the coffee table that separated them.

He sat, his elbows resting on his knees and looked up at her, smiling sadly. "Hi Hermione."

The sight of him almost broke her heart. The pain in his voice undid her. "Hey Harry."

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I... Yes. I'm fine." she stuttered, shocked that he'd even asked. It was such a change from the way he'd been when she'd last seen him. "Are you?"

"I don't know... How's Ginny?" his voice was husky, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.

Hermione frowned in confusion at the question. Hadn't he just seen Ginny? She'd gone back to the Burrow for Christmas and he lived there, didn't he? "She's ok, I think... I haven't seen her in a while. Holidays." said Hermione offhandedly.

"You didn't go with her?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head, more confused than ever. "No, Harry, I didn't go to the Burrow."

"Oh." he lifted his mug to his lips and drank, staring around the room with an air of distracted interest.

"Where were you for Christmas?" she asked, deciding that she may as well just bite the bullet and be up front.

"Godric's Hollow." he replied hollowly.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione's voice broke as her hand flew up to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. Her best friend had spent Christmas alone, probably staring down at his parent's graves. He leant forward, resting his head in his hands. "Harry, why didn't you come here?"

"I didn't think you'd want to see me after the way I was last time..." he said shakily, his voice thick.

She lifted herself off the floor and went to sit beside him, the tears flowing freely down her face. She wanted to pretend that she hadn't known how bad Harry's life must be, but she'd have been lying to herself. She knew even before she left the Burrow. And she'd ignored it.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his shaking shoulders.

"Harry, you can _always _come to me. I know we don't talk much and I haven't really been there for you lately, but I'll always be your best friend. I'll always be here if you need me."

He looked up at her and Hermione could finally see in his eyes just how tortured he was. "After everything I did?"

"Always." she reiterated softly.

His head collapsed sideways onto her shoulder and Hermione ran soothing circles on his back, hugging him tighter.

"Can I stay with you a while?"

Hermione ignored the faint uneasiness that rose up in the back of her mind and said, "Of course you can."

She remembered the promise she'd made herself all those months ago. She'd be there for her best friend this time. No matter what.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione woke at eight am after another restless night's sleep. She'd been overcome with worry about Harry and had been up most of the night trying to think about what was the best thing to do for him.

He'd come to her after all, hadn't he? He was Harry Potter; the entire wizarding world would have happily bowed down on its knees to him if they thought he'd appreciate it. Of all the people who he could have gone to, who would have helped him, he'd chosen her. So, Hermione surmised, there must be something that only she could do, something he wanted her for.

But try as she might, she could not think of what it might be. Their conversation the previous night had been stilted and awkward, it had seemed like he didn't really want to talk and was just doing it to appease Hermione. As far as she could see, he seemed quite happy just to be in her flat, staring off into space. Perhaps he didn't need a confidant or a councillor or a shoulder to cry on. Perhaps he just needed her to be his friend, to make him laugh, to cheer him up.

And he most certainly _needed _cheering up.

He was worse than she'd ever seen him. Sure, on the outside he just seemed a little sad. But Hermione _knew _Harry. She'd been his best friend for eight years and one does not spend so much time with someone without learning to read them like a book. She could read Harry, and she was sickened and torn apart by what she saw. All her progress felt like a betrayal to his pain. How could she live with herself, how could she move day to day while her best friend's mind was falling apart? No one was helping him, he was lost, and she could see it every time she looked at his face and saw his soul lying bare in his eyes. His depression was like an affliction, contagious and catastrophic. After only a night it had seeped into her space like fetid water and she'd woken up that morning torn asunder by the desire to stay and help Harry; and to get out of her flat, be as far away from him as possible, escape his sick room before it got her too.

Coincidentally, she was glad that she had school. It robbed her of the ability to choose between the two.

After she'd showered and dressed she went out to the lounge room to find him curled up, asleep on her couch. Even in sleep he looked pained, like his body was aching. She scribbled a quick note, telling him to make himself at home, help himself to anything in the pantry and that she'd be home that afternoon and they could have dinner together.

With that done, she bundled herself into her cloak and scarf to ward against the crisp, cold January morning. She left her flat, waving hello to Graham as she walked out of Flourish and Blotts and hurried, hunched against the wind, up the street to the Leaky Cauldron.

She apparated to Hogwarts and made it into the great hall just in time to grab a piece of toast and a swig of pumpkin juice before classes started. She was unsurprised to see she'd missed eating with her fellow _tovarasi_, who would inevitably be milling about outside Teodora's classroom, catching up after the holidays.

Hermione made her way through the castle, wondering how she was going to get through the day without talking about her house guest. She was still overwhelmed with worry and fear for her friend but she was determined not to let it show. It was hanging over her like a great, black cloud, and it felt wrong that no one else could see it.

She reached the classroom just as Teodora was opening the door to the group of students scattered casually around the corridor outside. There was a general outcry of greeting from her comrades and Hermione was pulled into many warm hugs before she was allowed to enter the classroom.

Immediately, the _tovarasi _and Teodora drew up pillows and poufs and draped themselves comfortably over the classroom floor. The room was abuzz with amicable and excited chatter.

When Hermione joined them, sitting between Ginny and Isobel, she caught Draco's suspicious eye and knew he was looking for signs that she had done what he'd warned against and over analysed. Of course, _he _would be the only one who noticed the black cloud but Hermione knew, even before it had happened, that he would misinterpret it. She turned away from him quickly, not keen to meet his gaze, knowing that she couldn't change his analysis of her behaviour unless she told him the truth. And that wasn't going to happen.

Hermione occupied herself instead with looking around at the rest of the _tovarasi_, noting that there was a general feeling of happiness covering what she could see was sadness and exhaustion. She knew then that she was not the only one who had wished to sleep through Christmas. It was a time, for everyone, to notice who was missing, who should have been there if not for Voldemort.

Teodora beamed around at them beatifically, "So you have all had pleasant holidays?"

The class shrugged and shifted uncomfortably.

"Of course," she continued knowingly, "This time is sad. I can see you all are sad. Do not feel guilty for this; it's natural to miss those we have lost. We will talk about this today. I would like for you all to tell us a happy way in which you remember your friends and loved ones who are no longer here."

And with that, she had each member of the group talk about their dead friends and relatives and by the end of the class, Hermione felt thoroughly wrung out and depressed. She was happy to see that the exercise had helped her fellows somewhat but it had done nothing to raise her spirits and she was grateful to leave.

When it had fallen to her turn to speak, she'd spoken about Remus and Tonks and Fred and her parents of course... But really she wanted to say she missed herself. Missed who she used to be.

She mourned for her lost pride, motivation, determination, her lost bravery. Her world was greyer than it had been. The sky was grey, the streets were grey and her skin was grey. She couldn't feel at peace in this monochrome, constantly alone, robbed of anyone who might heal that loneliness.

She'd though she'd had Draco. For twenty four beautiful hours, she'd deluded herself in that fantasy, then Harry and reality had shown up just to remind her that she still had so much suffering to do.

Harry.

Hermione almost fell over her feet while exiting the classroom, surrounded by her sombrely cheerful _tovarasi_, at the thought of her friend back at her flat, just as alone as she was. She should have stayed with him. He needed someone to be there for him.

Why was she constantly running? What was it about Harry's pain that made her cower in fear? It was despicable. After all the promises she'd made herself, that she'd be there for him no matter what, and here she was, still fucking running.

Just as a voice asked in the back of her mind what exactly she thought she could do about it right then, she knew. She could go home. What were grades when Harry was in danger? That's what it had been like when they'd been at school together, what changed it now?

Instead of turning off towards Charms class with her friends, Hermione veered off to the left to head down a corridor that would lead her to the front doors of the castle. When the inquiries about her intentions wafted after her, she waved her _tovarasi_ down with a wan smile, stating that she wasn't feeling well and was going home. Isobel offered to come but Hermione declined.

She broke free of them and set off at a brisk pace through the now empty corridors. She was better off leaving anyway, she was too disconnected and they deserved better of her. She'd only been amongst them two minutes ago and already she couldn't remember what any of them had said. Because she hadn't been listening. Her mind was back at home with Harry.

Hermione was just passing the library when she heard heavy footsteps approaching her from behind. She turned her head to see who was running after her, wishing that it wasn't who she suspected.

Draco.

Without saying a word, he grasped her upper arm and pulled her into their alcove, casting a silencing charm on the back of the tapestry cum doorway.

"You fucking over analysed it didn't you?!" he demanded, without waiting for her to speak.

Hermione didn't respond. She couldn't. She wanted desperately to tell him why she was being the way she was but knew that his reaction would be formidable. Only he knew what Harry had done and said on his last impromptu visit, only he had understood how scared she'd been. After everything they'd said and done together, he wouldn't let it lie, wouldn't leave it be.

"I can't believe I even tried! You're impossible, you know that, Granger?" he raged, his hands balled into white fists. "Why do you do this?! Why can't you just let it be?!"

Again she said nothing, simply looked up at him wide, blank eyes. She didn't trust the words that would come pouring out of her mouth should she even try to speak.

He threw his hands up in the air and laughed cruelly, "You know what? I don't know how Weasley did it but he must be a fucking saint. See you round, Granger."

And with that, he swept aside the tapestry and strode off back down the corridor.

Hermione stared at the space he'd just vacated. She'd deserved that. How must it look to him? She couldn't even say anything to sooth him, couldn't reassure him. She'd have come off as a cold hearted whore, which, really, wasn't far from the truth as far as she was concerned. What made it all the worse was how upset he seemed to be. She knew by his anger that she'd really hurt him.

A tiny, pathetic little sob scraped up her throat as the tears began to drip down her cheeks like a tap that just wouldn't turn off no matter how hard she turned the handle. Her back hit the stone wall behind her as she sunk down to the floor and buried her face in her arms.

She wanted to plunge her clawed hands into the floor and gauge out chunks of stone with her fingers just to give some sort of physical acknowledgment to the cries that were stopped in her throat. Her face crumpled and her mouth opened in a silent howl.

It just kept _happening_. No matter what she did, this awful, soul crushing grief and despair just kept on coming back again and again, over and over. Her life would fall apart, then she'd build it back up and then it would just fucking fall apart all over again. Would she die from it? Would it kill her? Or would it just keep shitting on her until she died, old and alone?

She wished desperately that it would kill her. She wanted it to swallow her and destroy her so she wouldn't have to _do _it anymore. There was no solution, or if there was, it wasn't for her. She didn't deserve a solution.

If she'd had a gun in her hand at that moment, she would have put it to her head and pulled the trigger. But she had no gun. What she did have, was a wand.

It was in her hand before she really thought about what she was doing.

No one survived the killing curse. No one...

But, said a sad, broken little voice in the back of her mind, what about Harry? Harry who was alone and lost and mourning back at her flat?

She thought that if she went to him and told him what she wanted to do, he'd probably go with her and do it too. They could cast it at the same time and both of them would be better off...

But she couldn't do that to him. No. This was another moment where she'd have to drag herself up off the floor and be there for her friend. He needed her. Harry needed her. This was her mantra.

With one last silent sob, Hermione pushed herself up to her feet.

She'd be there for Harry.

* * *

When she got home half an hour later, she found him still asleep on her couch.

Hermione went to the kitchen and, as quietly as she could, made him eggs and bacon and a nice hot cup of tea. He was so thin he looked as if he hadn't had a decent meal in months.

When she was done, she set the meal down on the coffee table in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"Harry? Wake up. I've made breakfast."

His eyes opened a crack and took in her presence and the food on the table. After a moment, he sat up, rubbing his face. His hair stood up on his head as usual and Hermione almost found herself smiling at the sight of it. During school, he was forever trying to smooth it down, but she'd always liked it the way it was and still did.

"Wow," he said huskily, "Thanks Hermione... Hey aren't you supposed to be at school?"

"I took the day off." she said, smiling kindly, "I thought we could hang out."

He nodded his appreciation at this and leant forward to dig into the food she'd made for him with gusto. Yes, she was right in thinking he hadn't eaten a decent meal in months. She sat down beside him, pulling the blanket he'd slept under up over her legs. In the back of her mind, she began to draw up a tally. She'd already fucked up three times today, she'd been distant with her _tovarasi_, had ruined anything she'd had with Draco and had run from her best friend. But this was a win. She'd made Harry food when he was hungry. So it stood at three/one to the fuck ups, but she was at the point where she'd take any small victories she could.

After a few minutes silence, Harry looked at her sideways and asked through a mouthful of bacon, "So what have you been up to the last couple of months?"

Hermione shrugged noncommittally, "School... Studying... I work in Flourish and Blotts on the weekends. Not much really." Nothing could inspire her to tell him about Draco, or their research. Harry wouldn't understand and the knowledge would probably only make him feel worse. This was counterproductive.

Harry nodded, "What's Hogwarts been like since...?" his voice broke slightly over the end of the sentence.

Hermione could sense the word 'war' in the offing and took a breath, trying to smooth over his slip, "Well... It's pretty good. I mean, people are still shaky and sometimes it's sad but... Yeah. It's fine. McGonagall's a good headmistress."

"Slughorn still there?"

Hermione laughed cynically, "Of course. Still trying to keep the Slug Club going. But no one's really interested anymore."

"Right. So who's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

She shifted uncomfortably; she'd been hoping to steer clear of mentioning the _tovarasi_ or Teodora. There was far too much information that Harry couldn't know hidden in that subject. She would have to tread carefully. "Her name's Teodora." when Harry raised his eyebrows at her use of her teacher's first name, she went on, "She won't let us call her Professor. She says it's because we're equals. She calls all of us by our first names too."

"Sounds like I'd like her." said Harry admiringly and Hermione got the impression he was probably thinking of Umbridge or Lockhart.

"I think you probably would." she responded, knowing it was true. Harry would have gotten along amazingly with her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"What's she like?" he asked.

"Really good." said Hermione fervently, "The classes aren't about spells or counter curses, not for the seventh years anyway; she teaches us about how to defend our minds from the pull of dark arts and bigotry. Trying to prevent another war."

"Who's in the class?"

"Only a few people... Ginny and Luna obviously, Padma Patil, Eli Jackson, Juliet DeMarco, Isobel Holub, Susan Bones, Blaise Zabini and Draco... Draco Malfoy." her voice cracked over his name. Hermione hoped that Harry hadn't noticed.

Harry almost choked on his eggs, "What?! He's not in Azkaban?!"

"No."

"Why the fuck not?" he demanded, as if it were her fault.

Hermione's whirred like a tractor motor as she pressed her shaking hands between her knees to hide her reaction to this question. With as much nonchalance as she could muster, she shrugged, "Wouldn't have a clue."

To her surprise, Harry laughed harshly, "Actually, I think I have some idea."

Hermione stiffened but said nothing.

He continued, "You know Narcissa Malfoy's in Azkaban with Lucius right?"

"No, I didn't." said Hermione, with what she hoped sounded like polite interest.

"Well yeah. She was going to get off to, because she helped me out towards the end, remember? Then someone testified against her. Told the Wizengamot that she'd watched you get tortured and did nothing. She was charged as an accomplice."

"It... It wasn't you, was it?" she asked, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.

Harry glared at her, "What do you take me for, Hermione? If it wasn't for her, I'd be dead wouldn't I? No. It was Lucius." Hermione's whole body jerked with the shock this sentence wrought on her but Harry didn't notice. "One last ditch effort to keep himself out of Azkaban, I reckon. But, you know, what didn't work for the father might have worked for the son."

Hermione felt as if she was going to vomit. Draco's father had sent his own wife to Azkaban just to save his own skin? Yet again, she felt an overwhelming sadness on Draco's behalf, on behalf of his broken family. The mother was in prison because of the father, and the father was there because of the son. She knew then that if anyone had any right to their suffering, it was Draco. No wonder he'd changed if that's the sort of values he'd been brought up by. She wondered if Narcissa knew what Lucius had done.

"Are you alright?" said Harry and Hermione noticed him looking at her in concern.

"Yes... Yes." she said quietly, "It's just... That's horrible. Poor Narcissa. But... How did you know about this?"

"They sent me a letter about a month after... after the final battle, asking if I'd come in and give a statement to add to Lucius's evidence."

"Did you do it?" asked Hermione breathlessly.

Harry shook his head. "No."

She nodded her approval of this vaguely, feeling as if her mind was crumpling in on itself. Harry looked back down at his plate and polished off the final scraps. After a few minutes wherein the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of Harry's clinking cutlery, Hermione stood abruptly.

"I'm going to have a shower."

Harry grunted to show he'd heard her and she rushed from the room, through her bedroom and into the bathroom. She twisted the shower taps on, steam immediately billowing out from behind the curtain.

Hermione leant heavily against the vanity, breathing deeply, her whole body shaking with the shock of what she'd just learnt.

How could the world be so dark? Even after the war, after all the cruelty she'd been forced to learn the human race was capable of, the magnitude of it still struck her dumb. What would become of them all? How could they rebuild their world around so much hatred, sadness and fear?

Strangely, all she could think when she looked around at her peers now, her former enemies and her fellow soldiers was:

_Oh, how the mighty have fallen._


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

DONE WRONG

_"How could you do nothing and say, "I'm doing my best" and how could you take almost everything, then come back for the rest."_

Hermione and Harry stayed up late into the night talking, though really, she did not enjoy a second of it. He was insular and uncommunicative for the most part and seemed to prefer asking Hermione countless questions about her life rather than answer any of her own. She found him harder to talk to than she once did. He was quick to judge, hard to read and spoke with a sort of cold indifference that she had never heard from him before. The only times he laughed or smiled, it was always with a sarcastic or cruel undertone and at the expense of someone else.

All in all, she really felt the uncomfortable reality of being outcast as his friend. She didn't know the person that slept on her couch that night, he was entirely unfamiliar to her. But she knew that it wasn't her Harry. It wasn't who he used to be. Oh, she could deal with his sadness really, his depression, his weakness; what she couldn't handle was his chilling demeanor and his harsh laugh. The more time she spent talking with him, the more the vulnerable little boy seemed to leak out of him, to be replaced by the callous stranger who'd fallen asleep at three am, finally leaving her time to think about things.

When she'd finally climbed into her bed, she felt almost resentful. All those months ago, she'd been consumed with anger while talking to George, she'd listed in her head all the times she'd been passed over for Harry, put Harry first and stuck her neck out for him. Now, she realised, it wasn't about her not wanting to do those things and feeling resentful that she had to, it was about the fact that there was never any appreciation and Harry's appearance, yet again, on her doorstep just illustrated her original point. She was always thinking of him, always concerned, always looking after him; when was her turn? When did he repay the favour? When did he think of _her _feelings, be concerned for _her_, look after _her_?

He could ask questions about her life all he liked but she could tell that underneath it all, he was too wrapped up in himself to take any real interest.

Like that was a foreign scenario.

The next morning, she woke in time to get ready for school, determined to go again that day and make up for what she'd already missed. Harry seemed to be calmer, less agitated since he'd arrived. Or so she told herself anyway. Either way, she was being irresponsible and had to get back to her education.

However, if she was honest with herself, schoolwork was only one very small reason for her to want to return to Hogwarts that morning. The cause that dominated her thoughts was Draco. She wanted to tell him what she'd learnt from Harry. But she didn't want to. She didn't know how to. Wouldn't it break his heart? But didn't he deserve to know?

For a moment, as she ran conditioner through her hair in the shower, contemplating how best to broach the subject of his father's betrayal, she'd felt quite guilty about what had happened between them the previous day. Perhaps she should have tried harder to communicate with him, to talk about why she was feeling the way she was. Perhaps she should have given him the reassurance he had so obviously craved.

But, she reminded herself firmly, _he _had made the assumption and, really, he hadn't asked if she was ok, hadn't given her a chance to properly talk to him. In fact, he hadn't even spoken _to _her. He'd spoken _at _her; like he was already prepared for the worst.

It was a small victory but a part of Hermione felt good that he'd finally fucked up in some way. In the past, it had always been _her_ putting her foot in her mouth or making assumptions. Now he'd gone and done it too. He wasn't perfect either and realising that made Hermione yearn for him just a little bit more but this did nothing to quell the self righteous anger that she felt over his behaviour.

Despite all this, she knew she had to talk to him, whether it was to tell him he'd behaved like a right bastard, to apologise for not opening up to him, or to admit what she'd learnt about his father. In the end, they were in a relationship. Even if she hadn't quite confirmed it yet. They owed it to each other to talk and work out their differences if they fought.

When Hermione got out of the shower, got dressed and walked through the lounge room and into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, she was already in a bad mood. Her mind was abuzz with chatter about Draco, Harry and the _tovarasi _and what explanation she'd give them for her cold behaviour the previous day. When she saw the circle of mess that surrounded Harry's sleeping form, all of the previous night's resentments came back in full force.

He was in her house, she had allowed him to be there, welcomed him despite his behaviour the last time he'd visited. And he couldn't even tidy up after himself? Like it was so hard to take his dishes back to the sink when he'd finished with them?

As the kettle boiled, Hermione walked back into the living room and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, shaking him softly but firmly.

"Harry, I'm going to school." she could hear the suppressed annoyance in her own voice.

He opened his eyes and stared up at her sleepily before he grimaced and made to turn over, clearly ruffled that she'd woken him up. "Ok." he grunted into the pillow.

"Perhaps you should think about going back to the Burrow?"

He turned back over to look at her again, "Why?" his voice was almost condescending, as if she'd just asked an incredibly stupid question.

"Well, I'm sure Molly and Arthur are worried about you." her tone was clipped as she began to gather his dirty dishes up into her arms and she almost thought she saw him roll his eyes. He sat up and scrubbed at his face but did not reply. Hermione made her way into the kitchen, her arms laden with cups and bowls.

"What does it matter if they're worried about me?" asked Harry, who, she was surprised to see, had followed her in. There was an air of challenge in his voice, like he knew that they were about to have a fight and actually _wanted_ it to happen. Hermione could feel it too, hanging over their heads like a storm. But this knowledge did nothing to assuage her resentments.

Hermione dumped the crockery in the sink and, using the very same tone he'd utilized on her earlier, said, "It matters a great deal, Harry. The Weasley's don't need any more worry."

He laughed harshly, "Oh, you're going to guilt trip me now? Like you can talk."

"I am _not _guilt tripping you! I'm stating facts! I think Molly and Arthur deserve a little more than your indifference!" she bit back, crossing her arms defensively.

He scowled, something Hermione thought she'd never seen him do. She showed him her back as she began to run water into the sink before he spoke again, "That's so like you. Think you can dictate everyone else's lives when you can't even manage your own."

She laughed sarcastically, "Well that's calling the kettle black."

"How?!" he demanded, "I'm not trying to tell anyone how to live their lives!"

She rounded on him, "No Harry, you just hand judgement like sweets! I might act like I know better than everyone else, but you act like you _are_ better than everyone else! No one can compare to the famous Harry Potter!"

"That's bullshit and you know it, Hermione!" he scoffed derisively.

"Oh yeah? What about Draco Malfoy then?" she almost shrieked, a hint of hysteria leaking into her voice.

He let out a high, condescending laugh, "What? What the fuck does Malfoy have to do with any of this?!"

"You _judged_ him! Just like you judge me! You don't even know him Harry, you don't know what he's been through! And yet you think that you can just cast him aside because you had some pathetic grudge against him at school! Just because he has a black tattoo on his arm!" Harry made to cut across her but she bellowed over the top of him, pointing her finger accusingly at his chest, "YOU DON'T KNOW! You never look beyond your own fucking nose because _no one _is as important as you! No one is as valuable as you!"

Hermione's throat felt raw already as her rant wound to an end. She stood, staring at Harry, her chest heaving. He didn't look shocked or angry, didn't look like anything she'd just said had penetrated his mind in any way; he just wore that same patronising look on his face that told her just how little he thought of her.

After a moment, he smiled darkly and Hermione almost took a step back in alarm. "Oh, I know what's going on here…" he said and she could hear the fury underneath his calm tone. "What happened, Hermione? Did Blaise get boring? Thought you'd move up from a Slytherin to a Death Eater, did you?" she did not validate any of these questions with an answer and he ploughed on ruthlessly, that same fierce growl lacing his words, "I've heard about women like you, Hermione. Don't feel good about yourself unless you've got your legs wrapped around some hopeless sod. Doesn't really matter who it is does it? What's the word for someone like you, Hermione? Slut, isn't it?"

Hermione's hands slowly clenched into fists, her face burning and her eyesight clouding with an unspeakable rage. "Is that the best you can do?" she said in a low, quiet voice, "After eight years? I was your best friend, Harry, and the only name you could think to call me is _slut_?"

He laughed cruelly, "Oh, I could do far worse than that Hermione. Trust me."

"Well go on then," she hissed, "Show me your worst, Harry. Feel free, I'm all ears."

Suddenly, there was a manic gleam in his eyes, like he was exhilarated, electrically charged. He looked entirely alien to her, like someone she'd seen from a distance but had never spoken to. "You want my worst?" his hand slid into his pocket and re-emerged clutching his wand, "Think you can handle the worst?"

Hermione eyes were trained on the thin piece of wood in her former best friend's hand as it raised slowly to point at her. A kind of blind, quiet terror was gripping ever inch of her body as the rage fled like a kicked dog. It had been so long since she'd been on the bad end of someone else's wand, someone who likely wanted to hurt her. She froze at the sight of it, her blood ran cold.

Harry's wand hand was shaking. "You… You don't know." he snarled, his voice quaking, "You weren't there. You should have been, but you weren't. You were too weak! You gave up!"

All she could do was stare at the point of the phoenix feather wand, but as he spoke, the cogs began to turn in Hermione's mind. She didn't know what he was talking about, couldn't make sense of his words. She frowned, confused, and raised her hands in supplication, her voice almost a whisper as she said, "I- I never left you, Harry. I don't understand…"

"YOU DID!" he screamed, his face contorting grotesquely in his anger. "You could have lived but you chose not to! YOU CHOSE TO LEAVE ME!"

Hermione's hands dropped to her sides in shock. Either she was stupider than she thought or all sense and logic had left the argument. "Harry, what…?"

But she never did get to finish her sentence. A bolt of light had shot out of Harry's wand, aimed at her chest. The pantry burst to pieces behind her as she dove out of the path of the spell and drove her hand into her pocket to retrieve her own wand. Another spell rebounded off her swiftly cast shield charm. Hermione clambered back to her feet, taking the opportunity to do so before the dust of her half wrecked kitchen settled. When it did, Hermione was subjected to a volley of attacks that were so fast that she could barely keep up. She would have felt proud that Harry finally seemed to have mastered silent incantations if he hadn't been using that mastery in an attempt to hurt her.

Harry cast again and again, and Hermione parried each blow deftly. He was using magic she didn't even recognise, some of which crackled and screamed against her shield charms, giving her the impression that they might be too weak to hold the spells off for long. Her wand weaved through the air in front of her almost too quickly for her eyes to follow as she cast protective spell after protective spell. She would not resort to violence, she would not attack back, despite the fact that his rebounding curses were demolishing her kitchen. If she had had the opportunity to use the _Auxilium _spell, she would have; but Harry was too fast. His face was a mask of concentration as he attempted to break through her defences and hers was twisted in despair as, with each attack, the reality of the situation crushed down on her mind.

They were duelling like enemies, like soldiers from two different sides of the war. But that wasn't right. They were on the _same _side, weren't they? They were fellow soldiers, comrades, _tovarasi_…

Suddenly, just as Hermione had begun attempting to stun Harry just to make him stop attacking her, just to put an end to their furious fighting, a jet of light sliced cleanly through her shield and hit her chest. She crumpled to the floor, her body caving in on itself.

Pain, familiar and heartbreaking, screamed through every nerve ending, every synapse. Her chest rose into the air as her body quaked and her back arched. Her fingernails dug into her palms like tiny knives but the sensation was nothing compared to the knowledge that Harry had used this spell on her. The spell that had nearly broken her mind in the depths of the Malfoy Mansion almost a year ago…

Almost as soon as it had hit, the pain stopped and Hermione lay in the dust and debris on her kitchen floor, panting and shaking uncontrollably.

First Harry's wand tip and then his face appeared over her. She raised her arms in a vain attempted to shield herself. "Please…" she gasped, "Please Harry, don't do it again! You… You can stay. I'm sorry I said what I said, just… Just please don't do it again!"

Rather than appearing pacified by her begging, Harry seemed to be disgusted by it. "Really, Hermione?" he scoffed, "You put up with forty minutes of the _cruciatus_ curse from Bellatrix Lestrange without breaking but you can't even handle two seconds of it from me? When did you become so pathetic?"

Hermione sobbed in response and continued to whisper the word "_please_" over and over again. After a moment, Harry bent down and Hermione almost sobbed in relief as his wand lowered. That was before she felt it press painfully into her ribcage.

She saw Harry's lips move. There was a flash of red light and then blackness took her.

* * *

The first thing Hermione knew when she woke up was that she had been stunned, and the next was that her arms and legs were bound magically. She couldn't move or stand though she tried. It was as if her wrists and ankles were wrapped in solid, impenetrable air. Blind panic spent a few minutes crashing around inside her body before she managed to calm herself down enough to begin taking in her surroundings.

She was in her own bed, laying on her side, she could tell because the familiar smell of her pillow was pressed up against her cheek. It was night and the room was dark. She could hear nothing except for faint sounds of movement coming from the lounge room and see nothing except a chink of ghostly moonlight filtering through a gap in her curtains.

She became aware of the wet trails now slicing down her cheeks and onto her bedspread. The betrayal was astronomical, inconceivable. It was crippling. Her mind seemed entirely incapable of taking it in, of facing up to the reality of it.

Strangely, it was in this moment that she began to remember all of the things she loved about Harry, all the times he'd made her laugh or stood by her side and faced danger with her. The resentment was falling away like the leaves of an oak in Autumn. Images and memories were slicing through her psyche, each one blinding her with its brightness and lucidity. The smile he wore when he won a quidditch game; the way he used to try and smooth things over between her and Ron when they fought, the happiness that visibly poured from him when he got together with Ginny, the way he'd look at her when he was having trouble with his homework and needed her help… All of it amounted to happy memories, love and friendship.

Hermione wept for her best friend. He was gone. He'd left. Whatever had cursed her that day wasn't Harry.

She tried to keep her sobs silent, to stifle the keening little wails in her pillow but after a few minutes, she heard her bedroom door open behind her and light flooded the room.

Her eyes slammed shut and she tried desperately to feign sleep as footsteps slumped across the carpet. They stopped in front of her and Hermione could feel him crouch down beside the bed.

"You needn't pretend to be asleep, mudblood, I can see your tears fresh on the pillow."

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she was shocked to see Harry's pale face inches from hers. His eyes seemed greener than usual, bright and electric. The voice that had left his mouth was so unlike him, so high and cold. So quiet. The look on his face was foreign and all wrong for him. She recoiled.

The word had been like a blunt blow to her head, making her dizzy and disorientated.

Harry had used it. The cursed word. The bad word.

Well, she'd told him to do his worst. Evidentially she'd underestimated him. His worst was so much more terrifying than she ever could have guessed.

"What are you going to do to me?" she rasped between a renewed bout of sobs.

He narrowed his eyes, staring into her own with a penetrating intensity, as if he was examining a particularly fascinating insect. "I don't know."

Hermione cried unabashedly, her bound hands clenched into hard fists in front of her face. He seemed unaffected by her outpouring of emotion and stood. She did not open her eyes to see him leave. She didn't care what he did. There was no Dobby to get her out now, no Ron to pull her out of the line of fire, no Draco to drag her from the lake and comfort her with his scent. The only saviour left to her was Harry, but he was gone. She was here alone with this monster.

Abruptly, the lights went out and Hermione was plunged into darkness. What happened barely moments later made her skin crawl. The bed behind her sunk down and after a second she felt the skin of Harry's bare chest pressed against the exposed part of her lower back. He snaked an arm around her waist and pressed his face against the back of her neck.

Hermione's eyes were wide with fear in the darkness. Was this what he meant to do? Was he that far gone? That depraved? Would she lose her innocence once and for all that night?

The fear was creeping up the back of her neck, raising little bumps on her flesh. She couldn't even think of it, couldn't imagine Harry doing what she thought he might do.

This was the root of it, she realised then. The triggers were all well and good, the panic attacks she'd been having over her bad memories, the depression she'd felt… But she would gladly suffer all of that a million times over just to escape this fear. The fear was the cause, the fear was the answer. How could she have been so blind? Hermione had always been strong. She could handle the smell of blood, the screams of her friends, the sight of their bodies. What had been her undoing was the _terror_ the war had brought. _That_ was what she was infected with, that was why the mind healer had diagnosed her with post traumatic stress disorder. Because of that fucking fear.

Hermione wanted to scream. She wanted to throw her fierce anger and something, someone. But she was powerless, tied up and held captive by something that wore the face of her best friend.

She beared her teeth at the darkness and made her hands into fists, cultivating all the courage she had into a catastrophic knot in her chest. She would fight him, should he try and hurt her again. He could torture her, beat her, do anything to her, but she would fight tooth and nail until she freed herself or he killed her.

But the blow for which she was waiting never came. Instead, after a moment, Hermione heard sniffles and sobs coming from behind her. Harry was crying.

Her kneejerk reaction was to comfort him, to ask if he was ok. But then the anger roared in her ears and she was reminded that this was no longer Harry and, so far, speaking to him had gotten her nowhere. So she lay there in silence, glaring into the darkness as Harry wept into the curve of her neck.

After a while, she realised he'd begun to speak, to whisper things through his apparent grief.

"I'm sorry Hermione." the end of her name turned into a soft, drawn out yowl, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. It wasn't me. You don't understand what he's like. I can't… There's no… I don't know what to do!" he sounded, again, like a lost little boy. His voice was high and childish and every word was punctuated with a sob.

"Let me go." she said through gritted teeth. Harry ignored her and continued to cry.

After what felt like hours, Harry's sobs turned into quiet, familiar snores and Hermione found that, try as she might, she could not keep her eyes open any longer. After all, it must have been at least two o'clock in the morning by then and she'd only had a few hours rest the previous night…

With Harry still cradling her into the curve of his body, she drifted into sleep.

* * *

Hermione did not know what time it was when she woke again. The light outside her window was grey with the dawn. Something had jerked her awake and, as she stared through the chink in her curtains, her mind slowly raising itself through the fog of sleep and into consciousness, she tried to recall what it was that had done so.

As she emerged out of her slumber properly, she realised. She could hear mumbling. Frantic mumbling, coming from behind her. And whoever was making the sounds was pawing through her hair.

"Not like Ginny's. Not like hers. Not smooth. No. _D-diffindo_."

Momentarily the hands left her hair, only to return again moments later.

And there it was, the memory of the night before. Harry, the fear, the curse, the evil word. Hermione was almost numb to it now. The little knot of courage and fury was nesting in her chest, waiting for the perfect moment to be let out of its cage. She needn't waste it now. Whatever he was doing behind her, she didn't care. She'd save her energy for a more important time.

Something wafted into her vision from above her and fell on the floor beside her bed. Could she have moved, she might have looked, but as it was, she couldn't.

"Why? Why'd you leave?" said Harry's frantic, shaky voice from behind her, "Wasn't I good enough? Didn't you like me? _Diffindo_. Not smooth like Ginny's. Don't like it."

Hermione could not make heads nor tails of Harry's rambling and knew instinctually that he wasn't talking to her but talking _about _her, so she did not bother replying. Another of the unidentifiable things wafted down over her vision again.

"When did you know you were going to die, I wonder? Did you do it on purpose? Weak, so weak. _Diffindo_."

Hermione gave a shriek as something sliced into the side of her neck. She tried to lift her hands to feel the wound but, for obvious reasons, could not. "Harry, what are you doing?!" she demanded, struggling against her bonds as blood began to drip down onto her bed sheets.

He ignored her. "_I _wasn't weak. Oh no… I was supreme._ Diffindo._ I was superlative. _Diffindo._ I was the highest of priests. _Diffindo._ I defeated death. _Diffindo_."

As he continued to cast the slicing spell, Hermione finally realised what he was doing, what the strange things that he kept throwing over her body were. He was cutting off her hair.

"Harry, stop! Please!" she begged as tears, once again, clouded her vision. She struggled harder against her bonds. He continued to ignore her.

After a while, Hermione realised that struggling was hopeless. No matter what she did or said, he would not stop or pay her any attention. She simply lay as still as she could while Harry continued to mutter gibberish behind her and slice of hunks of her hair. Every now and then he would tell her that it was 'not like Ginny's' but there was nothing she could do to convince him to stop.

So she lay in obedient silence and prayed.

* * *

Two days passed in this manner. Hermione remained complacent and submissive to Harry always, fearing that if she was not he might resort to force. He slept each night, pressed against her back and each night he cried and talked nonsense at her until he fell asleep. Sometimes it was full of anger and blame, so much so that she feared he might hurt her again. Other times he was crying into her neck again, begging her to forgive him. But he would not untie her no matter how much she begged him to.

Only twice had she felt hope that she might escape, and twice her hope was crushed.

On Wednesday night, she had thought he'd fallen asleep in the lounge room and, using all of the strength she could muster, had dragged herself into a sitting position, using her bound hands to support the weight of her body. She then tried to hop over to her bedroom window to call for help. But he had caught her and put her back to bed with a dire warning that if she tried again, he would again resort to using the torture curse.

She heeded his warning. She wanted to avoid being tortured again if she could.

On Thursday, Hermione's heart had soared with hope when someone had knocked on her door. She had, as usual, been bound on the bed while Harry occupied himself doing whatever it was he did in the lounge room. As soon as the rapping had rung through her flat, Harry had appeared at her side and dragged her to her feet which he unbound with a flick of his wand.

He marched her out of the room and towards the front door, keeping a painfully tight hold of her upper arm. Hermione was shocked to see the state of her flat for the first time in two days. The kitchen was a mess of chunks of wood and debris and the lounge room looked as if someone had been camping in it. To her alarm she saw many of the books on blood magic that Draco had given her laying scattered about the room. Harry, it seemed, had been occupying himself by ransacking her library.

Harry pressed his wand into her rib cage as someone called through the door.

"Hermione? Are you in there?"

It was Isobel. Hermione was ready to scream to her friend for help when she heard another voice. Ginny's.

"Hermione open the fucking door or I'm going to smash it down!"

Whatever she might be going through, Hermione knew then that all hope was lost. She could not allow Ginny to see Harry like this. There was no way.

She felt him tense beside her. "Get rid of them." he breathed into her ear.

"How?!" she whispered frantically.

"_Lie_." he hissed.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm here!" she called loudly.

There was a pause before Isobel said, "Well, are you going to let us in or not?"

"Um… No, I have a… a stomach bug. I don't want you guys to get it." she said.

"Hermione, for fuck's sake. We don't care about that! Open the door! We haven't seen you in days!" demanded Ginny.

"No! No, really, I'm fine. I… I don't want you to see me like this!" she floundered, "Just… come back tomorrow night, ok? I'm sure I'll be over it by then!"

Another pause, then, to her relief, "Alright then. We'll be back tomorrow night."

She listened as the two girls make their way back down the spiral stairs, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She sunk down to crouch on the floor and wept again, her bound hands pressed up to her chest.

"Why the fuck did you tell them to come back?!" snarled Harry, grabbing a hank of her shorn off hair and twisting her head back to look at him.

"Because they w-wouldn't have l-left if I hadn't!" she sobbed, her neck aching under the strain of his grasp, "You h-have the invisibility cloak, we can l-leave without being seen before they c-come back!"

"Leave?" he asked, blank faced. Hermione nodded. After a moment, he smiled maliciously. "Of course… Yes… We can leave."

He dragged her back to her feet and, using the point of his wand, pushed her back into the bedroom. She collapsed back onto the bed and curled up into a ball as he recast the binding charm on her ankles.

Yes, he would leave with her. And she knew no one would ever find them. They'd managed to avoid being captured by Voldemort for almost a year during the war, what difference was it now? What were the Ministry compared to him?

With a pang or despair she realised what she'd just sentenced herself to. Life, alone, with a monster.

* * *

A/N Victim of the Fall is back on AFF just so everyone knows :)


	26. Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

WILLING TO FIGHT

_"I fight fire with words. Words are hotter than flames. Words are wetter than water."_

"Is there any of this you feel particularly attached to, mudblood?"

Again, the word carved through her nerves like a serrated blade. She was leaning against her lounge room wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her hands and ankles remained bound. Exactly where Harry had placed her an hour ago. He was striding from one end of the room to the other, depositing items and food into her beaded bag which lay open on the coffee table. Her eyes followed him dully.

She was docile and complacent, inside her head was blank. But Hermione knew that the hot knot of fury and wrath that was nested in her chest was ready. _She_ was ready, should the opportunity arise that she might escape.

But the thing was, she didn't know if the opportunity _would _arise. Harry watched her like a hawk and she hadn't the foggiest idea what he'd done with her wand but she hadn't seen it in two days. None of the spells of the Dividing Line could be used defensively except _Auxilium_. But, for that she needed her wand. She felt naked and vulnerable without it and craved it passionately.

Hermione looked around at her belongings, trying for what felt like the fiftieth time, to spy out the thin piece of wood poking out from under something but to no avail. Her flat was in chaos. Almost everything she owned was broken or smashed and scattered around the room. Most of it consisted of inconsequential, replaceable things. Except the record player which lay in pieces on the floor. The sight of it made her heart hurt. It had been left to her by Remus, it was invaluable.

In the end, if she couldn't have her wand, Hermione wished she could take something of Draco's. Wherever she was going, she longed to have a piece of him with her. Something that reminded her that the kisses they'd shared, the intimacy that had been built between them was real.

"There's a record." she said monotonously after a moment of thought, "In that pile there… It's called _Unplugged in New York_. I'd like to take it."

Harry reached for the pile and began flicking carelessly through it. He finally pulled the familiar maroon coloured sleeve out of the stack and held it up to her for confirmation. She nodded and he threw it into the beaded bag indifferently.

She was comforted by the knowledge that there was a part of what she'd shared with Draco going with her.

Quietly, she wished she were less stubborn, maybe less emotionally invested. Then she could have told Draco about Harry and none of this would have happened… But maybe she needed to be _more _stubborn. Stubborn enough to want to break through his anger that day that felt like a million years ago and tell him the truth.

But, she told herself, what's done is done. Playing the 'should have' game was only going to make her feel worse. She had to keep control of her emotions if she was to get away from Harry. There was no part of her that needed to be the noble, brawny Gryffindor now, no. _Now_ she needed to be the snake. She needed to sit and wait for the perfect moment to strike. Because if she didn't, if she struck and missed, Harry would just tighten her bonds and torture her more. These things were counterproductive.

Her blood simmered with her suppressed feelings as Harry suddenly appeared, crouching down in front of her. "You wear such a pretty mask of indifference, but I can feel your anger." he said.

Hermione made no reply, simply continuing to stare at him with what he had called her 'pretty mask of indifference'.

He held her gaze and she did not look away. He looked at her again as if he found her interesting, like her emotions were something foreign he could study.

"Oh, how you fear me." he said quietly.

"Not fear." she responded, a strength in her voice that she could not entirely place. As she said it, she realised it was true. She was past fearing him. Fear was something she'd felt two nights ago, before she realised just how culpable it was for her ruined life. After that, fear had been told to fuck right off. She could manage without it.

Harry laughed lowly, as if he did not believe her. But she was fine with that, fine with allowing him to underestimate her.

After a moment, he stood, still chuckling and resumed his task of packing her beaded bag. She let her head fall back against the wall behind her with a soft thud and cast her eyes out into Diagon Alley. Harry had thrown her curtains open to reveal the dimly lit street. It had begun to snow about an hour ago but Hermione could barely see the fluffy white powder drifting down from the sky through the heavy darkness that blanketed Diagon Alley.

Tomorrow she'd be venturing out into that, covered in Harry's cloak. He'd told her they'd apparate straight off her balcony and to the Forest of Dean where they'd camped so long ago.

_If you allow it_, said a voice in the back of her mind… Yes… if she allowed it, he would take her far away from her home, her friends, her _tovarasi_. Far from help's reach.

Something occurred to her then. The _tovarasi_. Shouldn't they have been able to feel her anguish just like they had felt Isobel's? Shouldn't they be breaking down her door, running to her defence, clamouring to save her? What if keeping her emotions under so tight a lid had stopped them being able to feel her?

But what if they _had_ felt her and had just decided not to come? What if they didn't care?

Hermione felt a dull pang of loneliness at the thought.

Either way, whatever the _tovarasi _might be doing, Hermione realised then that she could not allow Harry to take her away. She _would not_ resign herself to this fate as she'd resigned herself to so many things over the last few years. This time, _she_ would choose her own destiny; choose not to be led into chaos and pain again. Choose not to sit in silence and wait to be saved.

All she had to do was pass the time until her moment to strike. But strike she would before the dawn of the next day, or she knew all hope would be lost. The moment Harry took her to the Forest of Dean; she knew there was no escape. It had to be tonight.

After a few more hours spent watching Harry pack her entire library of books on blood magic into her beaded bag, she began to nod off where she sat. He must have noticed because what felt like moments later; he was poking her with the tip of his wand again, ordering her to her feet.

It was late. He wanted to go to bed.

She tried to lift herself, but without her arms she fell sideways and hit the floor with a painful thump. Harry's hand grasped her upper arm and lifted her to her feet jarringly. She felt the now familiar ache in her ribcage as Harry's wand pushed her into the bedroom.

But as she walked past the kitchen she saw something, sticking out from under one of her cupboard doors which lay on the blue, dust covered tiles. Her wand.

It had been left where she'd dropped it days ago.

She knew she had no chance of making a grab for it then, with Harry's pressed into her side. He'd curse her before she'd gone two feet and most likely snap the wand in half just to prevent her going looking for it again.

Now was not the right moment. But at least she knew where her weapon lay when the time came for action.

They moved past the kitchen and into the bedroom.

"I have to use the bathroom." said Hermione through gritted teeth. She knew she had to go then, because she'd learnt that Harry would not get up through the night. He rolled his eyes and pushed her into the bathroom, releasing her hands from their bonds as he did so.

Hermione did her business, as Harry watched on with an air of boredom, his wand trained on her. No matter how many times she'd already done this, she felt more humiliated than she ever had in her life. It was at times like this that keeping her emotions controlled was the hardest.

When she was done, Harry bound her hands again and she re-entered the bedroom. Hermione fell sideways onto the bed, trying to hide her burning face. Moments later, Harry joined her, pushing his body up against her back and draping an arm over her waist as usual.

Hermione did not sleep that night. She listened as Harry begged her forgiveness again but did not bother trying to ask if he'd let her go. She just listened, her heart cold and unfeeling as he sobbed into her back.

Harry's emotions were so scattered, his actions so changeable that she could barely keep up. One moment he was cold and unemotional, cruel and heartless, and then he was sobbing into her shorn off hair. And this was the most frightening thing about her ordeal, knowing that Harry was not Harry and watching as his mood changed like the wind, hoping that the gale was not directed at her.

But it always was and probably always would be if he took her away.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the urge to strike came; stronger and more powerful than she'd ever felt it. Determination and defiance charged her brain into electricity. Her heart beat with a rhythm that said, _now_,_ now_,_ now_,_ now_,_ now_.

It was despicable, really, what she was thinking of doing to him. Harry was weakened, vulnerable… But she didn't care. She would_ not _be leaving with him. He would feel her rage.

In one jarring and rapid movement, Hermione threw back her arm, allowing her elbow to kick out behind her body. She felt a surge of fierce glee as it connected with Harry's face.

He let out a yowl of pain and surprise, his hands flying up to cup his broken nose. Blood was gushing out from between his fingers.

Hermione was up in seconds, kneeling beside him. When he saw her he made a mad grab for his wand, which lay on the nightstand, but she was too quick for him. She linked the fingers of her bound hands and, with as much force as she could muster, brought her combined fists down on the side of Harry's face.

In the midst of his consequential daze, Hermione threw her body across his and felt a savage joy when she felt her fingers wrap around his wand.

But it wasn't over yet. One of Harry's blood covered hands wrapped around Hermione's throat while the other groped for his wand.

She felt his thumb pressing into her oesophagus, constricting the air in her lungs. But she would not allow him to win, would not allow him to take from her what she had gained. As they wrestled with each other on the bed, Hermione brought the wand down and pressed it into his chest. She could not speak with his hand wrapped around her throat and instead thought the curse with all her might, pouring every last drop of her fierce and uncontrollable defiance into it.

_Crucio_!

Harry screamed and jerked underneath her, almost tipping Hermione off the bed. But she wouldn't be suppressed. The curse continued for far longer than he'd used it on her and she enjoyed every minute of it. There was something animalistic and satisfying about casting it on someone else, someone who she had a fierce hatred for, and for one totally insane second, Hermione understood why Bellatrix did it.

The thought scared her more than the curse itself and she allowed it to lift. She dispersed the binding charms on her wrists and ankles and leapt up to her feet, off the bed, the wand in her hand trained on its master. He stood slowly, glaring at her like a tiger at its prey.

Only then did Hermione happen to look at the instrument in her hand. She balked as she realised for the first time that it was not the holly and phoenix feather wand. It was white and just a touch longer… It almost looked familiar.

She looked back up at Harry and he grinned cruelly. He raised his arm and held out his hand, as if he expected her to give it back to him. But she needn't.

To her shock, the wand flew out of her grasp and into Harry's outstretched palm.

Hermione turned and ran. She did not care why the wand had abandoned her, only that Harry now had a weapon and she did not.

She stumbled into the kitchen, her hand diving under the cupboard door that lay on the floor where she knew her own wand was hiding. She felt her fingers wrap around it and almost sobbed in relief.

She wheeled around just as Harry entered the room, rolling to the side as he cast the torture curse.

The duel began anew.

Hermione parried or dodged each of Harry's curses and sent back many of her own. There was nothing defensive about her tactics now. She was just as determined to hurt and cripple him as he seemed to be her.

The floor under their feet grew hot as the lights of spell after spell flashed through her flat. Her kitchen and living room were falling into ruin with each rebounded curse.

Hermione fought with a ferocity that she didn't know she possessed and Harry began to fall back, his face a mask of rage as she forced him backwards into the lounge room and almost up against her balcony door.

Suddenly, just as Harry's wand slashed through the air and she felt a burning sensation graze her left thigh, the door to her flat burst open.

In poured the _tovarasi_ as one, wands out, and Hermione gave a howl of triumph. The duel was won.

The curses stopped as Harry took in the new additions to the fight. A collective gasp filled the room as her comrades clapped eyes on her attacker then silence reigned.

After a moment, Ginny stepped forward, breaking away from the group. "Harry?" her voice was so small, so hurt, that it broke Hermione's heart.

Several emotions flitted across Harry's face, a mingling of agony and indecision, finally coming to rest on disgust. "Come any closer, blood traitor, and I'll curse you into oblivion." he growled, raising his wand at Ginny. Blaise stepped forward in front of the red head, wand raised, his dark eyes blazing with fury, but before he could cast, Harry turned away from them. He seemed to decide that it would be unwise to take on ten people at once, flung open her balcony door and disapparated with a crack that echoed through the night.

Hermione stared at the spot he'd just vacated, the adrenaline of the battle coursing through her bloodstream. Sparks flew out the end of her wand as she rounded on the group of people standing, stunned, in her living room.

Ginny crumpled to her knees, and yowled like a wounded animal. Susan flew to her side and wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl.

Confusion reigned as every single one of the _tovarasi_ began firing off questions all at once.

"Was that _Harry Potter_?!" exclaimed Eli.

"Why was Harry here?!" cried Luna.

"Why didn't you come?" asked Hermione quietly.

"Hermione, what happened to your hair?" Isobel was near hysteria.

"Why were you duelling?" demanded Padma.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU COME!?" Hermione bellowed, and the _tovarasi _fell silent. She had meant the question to be directed at the group as a whole but as she yelled, she had eyes only for Malfoy, his pale face shining through the darkness of the room.

"Hermione, you're bleeding." said Luna in a small voice. Hermione looked down at where the younger girl was pointing. Sure enough, there was a red stream flowing down her bare leg from a deep gash in her thigh. But she couldn't feel it. She couldn't feel anything except her hurt.

Padma rushed forwards and, with shaking hands, pulled out her wand to tend to the wound and Hermione let her.

"What happened?" said Isobel evenly. Hermione could tell that her friend was trying hard to remain calm.

Hermione took a deep breath before she launched into the story of how she'd spent her last two days. She told them of how Harry had arrived at her house on Sunday night, of how she'd promised herself to be there for him and how she'd gone to school the next day and felt guilty for leaving him. She left out her confrontation with Malfoy.

She could not look at her comrades as she spoke, instead choosing to rest her eyes on the space Harry had just disapparated from. With every word she said, Ginny cried harder and Hermione's hands shook. She didn't want to say it all out like that, in a rush of words and breath. She wanted them to know how hard she'd tried to stay calm, how she'd only been trying to protect them and that's why she lied through the door the day before, how monumentally fucked it all was, how she just wanted to crawl up into a ball and cry like a child. But she didn't. This was a time for strength. Crying hadn't helped her two days ago and it wouldn't help her now.

She kept emphasising, mainly for Ginny's benefit, that Harry wasn't Harry anymore. There was no lingering sense of the person she'd known anywhere, even the sound of his voice was different.

When she finished, every single person in the room looked scared and confused. Eventually, Blaise spoke, "Do you think it was someone else?"

"What do you mean?" asked Juliet.

"Perhaps it wasn't Potter, but someone who had taken polyjuice in order to _look_ like Potter." he clarified.

Hermione made a sceptical noise. She hadn't seen Harry drinking from a flask or anything like that while he was there, but the real giveaway for her was that he'd seemed so disorganised. If someone had taken polyjuice in order to impersonate Harry, they would have had a plan. But Harry had just shown up. What if she'd turned him away? What if they hadn't fought? No, too much of what had happened was left to chance.

But then, the reality of it hit her. If it was not an imposter, then it was really Harry who'd cursed her, bound her and called her 'mudblood'. Hermione finally realised that what was happening to her former friend was far from depression, PTSD or anxiety; it was something bigger, more sinister. She knew that really, this had been bleedingly obvious for quite some time now, but she'd never really thought about it properly before then.

So what was wrong with Harry?

"Someone has to call the Aurors." said Eli.

"What?" demanded Hermione, breaking away from her thoughts, "Why?!"

"Potter is a criminal now, Hermione. He broke the law." said Isobel and Hermione could see her thirst for revenge in her best friend's eyes. She nodded her resignation.

"Do you have an owl?" asked Eli.

"I did…" she said quietly, "But we must have broken open his cage while we were duelling a few days ago. I haven't seen him since. It's alright though, look." Hermione held out her wand, "_Expecto Patronum_." she whispered, thinking of her freedom. A silver otter burst from its tip and frolicked out of her still open balcony door.

"Was that a patronus?" asked Juliet, slightly awed.

Hermione nodded, "The Order of the Phoenix used them to communicate. I've just sent it to McGonagall. I expect the cavalry shall arrive soon." her voice was hollow and thin as she looked around her destroyed flat. It had been her oasis, her one place that was entirely her own. And now it was a wreck. She didn't know where she could possibly begin to repair any of the damage.

Susan had led Ginny to Hermione's couch where the younger girl continued to sob quietly into Susan's shoulder. Luna joined them. Isobel and Blaise seemed to be making it their job to inspect all of the damage and were wandering freely around her flat looking concerned. Padma was in the kitchen, sounding as if she was foraging for food in the debris covering the floor. Juliet was flitting about the room, lighting candles with her wand. Eli was pacing backwards and forwards in front of her balcony door, scanning the street outside vigilantly.

Only Hermione and Malfoy remained standing where they were. She had not moved since Harry disapparated. He did not seem to be able to look at her.

"Why didn't you come?" Hermione asked again, quietly, looking at Malfoy.

When he didn't answer, Ginny finally sniffled and spoke, her voice thick and nasally, "We felt it on Tuesday morning. But it happened really quickly. It was over almost as soon as it began." Hermione nodded, knowing that this was because she'd been tortured, then stunned. Ginny continued, "It was distant, not very strong. None of us were together, so I guess we didn't think much of it. Then we felt it again that night. But it was despair. We were all in the library studying. It was really late. Maybe midnight. And we knew… We knew it was you." Ginny began to cry again.

"So why didn't you come?" asked Hermione again, tying to keep her own tears at bay.

"The… the feeling wasn't as urgent as it was with Isobel and Draco…" Ginny trailed off, looking guilt ridden.

"Draco? Draco what?!" demanded Hermione, looking between Ginny and the man in question.

"I told them not to come." he said quietly, speaking for the first time. Hermione had never seen him look so tortured. His face was an open mask of agony. "I thought you were…"

"Over analysing." Hermione finished for him, her voice breaking.

She could have been saved, could have been spared the torture she'd experienced over the last two days if not for Malfoy's assumption. The knowledge made her knees weak.

"Hermione …" his voice cracked. He was crying.

She didn't know what to say to him. Was it betrayal? Or was he just human and had made a mistake? On the one hand, she wanted to be angry with him, wanted to hate him again; but on the other, she'd pined for him over the last two days and that feeling outweighed all the others. She just wanted him to hug her. But that wasn't right, was it? She should despise him. But she just _couldn't_.

"I'm so sorry." he sobbed and she could see tears sliding down his pointed face. "I was so stupid. They all wanted to come here but I thought… I thought you were just wallowing. I thought you were being difficult. I'm so sorry." he hid his face in his hands.

Hermione walked towards him, finally leaving her spot. He tried to push her away when her arms lifted to encircle his neck but she wouldn't let him. She pressed her body up against his and breathed his familiar scent. His arms hung at his sides. He did not hug her back.

"I'm not going to say it's ok." she whispered into his ear, "I won't tell you I'm not angry. But just being able to do _this_ outweighs it."

"I don't deserve it." he whispered back, his breath hitching at every syllable.

"I don't care."

And she kissed him, just because it was the only thing she could think of that she wanted to do. She hadn't showered or eaten in almost three days, but the only thing that dominated her thoughts was kissing Draco again. She needed the comfort of him right then. Oh, she'd think about Harry later, about all the questions she still had but not when he was so close after she'd thought she'd never be able to see him again.

After a moment, he kissed her back, his arms wrapped around her body and Hermione finally let herself cry, just a little bit. Because she knew she didn't need to feign strength with Draco. She could be who she was and right then she was broken and damaged and needed him to be broken and damaged with her.

They stood, suspended in this moment for a long time, entirely alone. The room was empty but for them.

Suddenly, several loud cracks echoed through Diagon Alley, breaking the two of them from their stupor.

Hermione looked around and cringed. Eight pairs of eyes were looking at her and Draco with wide eyed, unadulterated shock. Eight pairs that included Isobel's.

The two women shared a moment. Hermione could see her friend was hurt and she wanted to go to her but Draco didn't seem inclined to let her go now that he had hold of her again.

"The Aurors are here with McGonagall." said Eli dimly; still staring at Hermione and Draco in shock but Hermione had eyes only for Isobel.

An unspoken understanding passed between them that said, "_Later_."

"I'll go and meet them." said Juliet after a moment and then disappeared through Hermione's front door.

After a few tense minutes, Professor McGonagall and five Aurors Hermione did not know entered her flat with Juliet in tow. Her lounge room was immediately filled with voices, demands and questions as the _tovarasi _all began trying to tell the story at once.

Finally McGonagall held up a hand, "Silence! Miss Granger. Tell me what happened."

Hermione took a calming breath, comforted by the fact that Draco had just laid a hand on the small of her back. She told McGonagall, in short, what had passed and as she spoke, the Headmistress looked paler and paler. The Aurors, to their credit, kept their shock and alarm to a minimum though Hermione could still see it was there.

When she reached her conclusion, the older woman put a fluttering hand to the base of her throat, "Potter did this, you say? _Harry _Potter?" she asked quietly, looking around at the damage to Hermione's flat.

Hermione nodded. "Don't ask me why, I don't know. But I know there's something very wrong with him. He wasn't himself, professor." she noticed as she spoke that it sounded as if she was almost trying to defend him.

"Very well." said McGonagall faintly.

Hermione was then led into her bedroom by two of the female Aurors who introduced themselves kindly as Watson and McClure. She was forced to retell her story again, in far more detail, as they questioned her ferociously, making a point of asking whether Harry had touched her inappropriately. She assured them he hadn't, that he had seemed more like he wanted some sort of motherly comfort than anything sexual.

For an hour Hermione sat on her bed, answering their relentless questions, before they allowed her to return to the lounge room where she found the Professor McGonagall had conjured many wooden chairs to seat everybody and a tea tray, laden with tea and biscuits. Hermione fell on it like a ravenous animal. Aside from Draco and her wand, tea had been the one thing she'd missed in the last two days.

The Aurors, the _tovarasi _and Professor McGonagall continued to talk about the events of the evening, allowing Hermione to eat in peace while Draco sat in a chair beside her, his hand on her knee.

After some time, the headmistress cleared her throat and addressed Hermione again, "Miss Granger, I must insist that you return to Hogwarts."

It wasn't a question.

None the less, Hermione shook her head. "No, thank you professor, but I'd like to stay here. This is my home."

"But it may no longer be safe!" exclaimed the headmistress.

"We can station an Auror or two around the building and put up further protective enchantments if Hermione would rather stay." said the Auror Watson helpfully, "Wards that would keep Potter out should he choose to return."

Hermione cringed. They said his name now like he was a criminal when only two hours ago they probably would have raised their drinks in his honour. She felt, somehow, that she was to blame for this and didn't like it. No matter what Harry had done, he was still a hero. He'd just gotten lost.

"I'll stay with her." said Draco firmly, breaking Hermione from her thoughts.

McGonagall seemed about to argue but appeared to decide it was a lost cause. "Well… If you can assure me she will be safe…"

The Auror Watson nodded as did the other four. Hermione sighed gratefully. She didn't need the probing questions of the students at Hogwarts and, knowing her school, word would get out somehow and there _would_ be questions.

"This is all confidential, isn't it?" she asked suddenly, looking between the five Aurors. "The public don't need to know what Harry's done?"

"We'll try to keep it as under wraps as we can." replied the Auror McClure. Somehow, Hermione wasn't reassured.

She then allowed herself to be examined by a male Auror who introduced himself simply as Tod and was apparently a trained field Healer. He pronounced her to be somewhat dehydrated and 'in need of a few good feeds' but otherwise unhurt. His only pause for concern was the cut on her neck which he said had become inflamed but he gave her a balm from a satchel he wore round his shoulders that she could put on it to ease the infection.

Hermione noticed that while she was being examined, Isobel and Ginny had disappeared, only to return when the Aurors, McGonagall and the _tovarasi _were preparing to leave. She shot the girls a questioning look but they said nothing.

Hermione was hugged and patted on the back while the crowd filed out of her flat.

When they had all gone, making their way up to the Leaky Cauldron to disapparate, Hermione was left standing in her lounge room, again staring around at all the damage that had been done.

Draco appeared at her side. "Don't think about this now." he said, "We can deal with it in the morning. Let's go to bed."

He took her hand and led her to the bedroom and she discovered what Isobel and Ginny had been doing. The sheets on her bed were changed and the room had been cleaned up so that it now looked as if Harry had never been there.

Hermione began to cry softly. It was strange to believe that those two girls were capable of extending so much kindness to her after what they'd both been through that night. She'd forgotten what kindness felt like.

Draco led to her the bathroom where he turned on the water and, after kissing her forehead, left her to her business. Hermione showered quickly, not liking being alone at all.

When she returned to the bedroom, she felt dazed and disorientated. It all felt so normal, what they were doing. She felt as if she should be a sobbing mess, that she should be out looking for Harry, that she should still be asking questions and screaming at people just to alleviate her feelings. But as Draco pulled back the covers and climbed into bed with her, she found she did not have the energy for all of that. All she wanted was the warm protection of Draco's embrace.

She cuddled up to his body, resting her head on his arm as he wrapped the other around her protectively. She did not want to sleep with her back to him; she wanted his scent to cocoon her all night.

After a moment, he retrieved his wand from the nightstand and lifted his arm to extinguish the lamps but she stopped him.

"No," she said quietly, her voice muffled by his chest, "Leave them lit."

She did not ever want to wake up in the darkness again.


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

PULSE

_"You crawled into my bed that night, like some kind of giant insect. Beautiful and grotesque and all the rest of that bug stuff."_

Hermione was numb. Everything was numb. Her face, her hands, her legs, her teeth. She was so tired… She slept all through the next day, all through Sunday and when Draco woke her for school on Monday morning, she told him she wouldn't go. Then after he had assured her he'd stay if she stayed, she slept through Monday too.

She didn't know what he did while she slept, though she had some idea as her lounge room and kitchen were miraculously beginning to repair themselves, and was only aware of him when he woke her, urging her to eat or shower. A few times, other members of the _tovarasi_ came by to see her, but Hermione would only drag herself to the lounge room to sit quietly on the couch while she stared off into space as her guests and Draco talked amongst themselves until she fell asleep again, usually with her head resting on Draco's shoulder. She couldn't take in what they were saying at all and couldn't form sentences herself when she was encouraged to speak.

Hermione had never experienced depression quite like this. Her sadness was always loud, dramatic, soul destroying. But this was different. This time it was quiet and deadened, like her mind was wrapped in a blanket that stifled any outside noise or feeling.

She couldn't really tell if it bothered her because, in order for it to bother her, she'd have to form an opinion about it, to have some sort of emotional reaction; and opinions and emotions were, at that point, totally foreign concepts. Her mind was working in sounds and images and colours, rather than feelings or words or logic. It was like she'd turned into something primordial that couldn't think or speak and only understood its instinct to sleep and eat.

Professor McGonagall and Teodora both came to see her every day and Hermione had heard her Defence teacher refer to her condition as 'a coping mechanism'. Hermione would have agreed if she'd had the facilities to think about it. The Aurors came up to her flat sometimes, while they were standing guard, just to check on her. Especially Aurors Watson and McClure. But just like with the _tovarasi_, Hermione could only stare at these people owlishly and remain silent.

But Draco was there, always. He didn't try to force her to talk; he just cared for her in silence. Though even through her daze, Hermione could tell there was something off about him now. He frowned all the time, or whenever she was around to see it at least. But, nonetheless, every night she would sleep curled up into his chest, always facing him and always with the lamps lit.

It wasn't until Tuesday evening that Hermione woke, for once, on her own without Draco shaking her into consciousness. The moment she opened her eyes, she knew something was different. Her mind was less foggy, more alert. She did not know what had pulled her from her sleep until she heard voices talking in the lounge room.

"Do you want some tea?" that was Draco. He sounded tired.

Hermione recognised Auror Watson's voice as the woman replied, "Yeah, thanks."

She heard the two of them move into the kitchen and Watson asked, "How is she?"

"Hasn't spoken a word since Friday night and sleeps in eighteen hour blocks." responded Draco shortly, his voice was haggard and drawn and Hermione felt a twinge of emotion for the first time in days.

"She'll come around. From what I've heard, she's a strong little girl."

Hermione bristled a little at that; since when could she be defined as a 'little girl'? She heard the tinkling of a teaspoon stirring a cup of tea.

"I know Max. I just wish I could _do _something…"

Max? _Max_? Auror Watson was 'Max' now? Hermione almost had to laugh at herself. Four days she'd spent in a near catatonic state and the one thing that was pulling her out of her own head was jealousy? She might have wished for something a little more poetic…

The two of them moved back into the lounge room as they continued to talk.

"You know, Draco… I think what you're doing is incredibly decent." said Watson lowly.

"Thank you." Draco responded stiffly. Hermione heard the creak of springs that was them sitting down on her couch.

"But… Look. I've been wanting to tell you for a while… I don't want to see you running yourself into the ground for this girl."

"Yes. Well. She's… important." he said in reply and Hermione was pleased to hear that he sounded irritated.

"Oh, I know!" backtracked Watson, "What she did during the war was admirable, inspirational even. I just think… Well, perhaps you could… try for someone a little more suited to you."

There was a tense pause.

"Meaning?" asked Draco coldly.

"You know what it means."

There was more silence then and for the first time, Hermione actually had the intense urge to get up. She was feeling something. She was feeling like she very much wanted to plant her fist squarely into this woman's jaw. She didn't know what the Auror had meant, perhaps that Hermione was too young and inexperienced, or maybe that Draco should be with someone with less drama in their lives. Either way, it made her angry. And she wanted to demonstrate her anger in some way.

But she didn't. The logical part of her brain was whirring sluggishly back into action and it was telling her to let Draco deal with whatever was happening out there, to trust him. All Hermione could do was lie, staring at the ceiling, her fists clenched under the covers and listening hard. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help it. Their conversation was ploughing on as if it were a familiar script and all she could do was watch it play out. Plus, if she were honest with herself, she wanted to know what he would do, what he would say. Was he going to defend Hermione or agree with Watson?

She became more and more tense as the seconds ticked past and she heard nothing. What could they have been doing? Just sitting on her couch staring at each other? Or worse? Just as she had moved her arm to throw back the covers, leap out of bed and fling herself into the lounge room, Draco spoke again.

"What are you doing?" his tone was reprimanding, like Watson had done something childish and mean and Draco had just caught her out.

"I'm showing you that there might be something more appropriate on offer." the Auror replied with no hint of an apology in her voice.

"And what makes you think you could know what is appropriate for me?"

"Your mother wanted…"

He cut her off, sounding bitter, "You don't know what my mother wants."

"I might have a clearer idea than you." Hermione could feel Draco's shock almost as if it were her own but he did not speak. Watson continued, "I saw her the other day when I was on guard duty."

Draco's voice was constricted when he spoke then, losing all of the authority he had previously cultivated, "How is she?"

"You know? I think she's fine. Really… Azkaban isn't the way it used to be, Draco. Without the Dementors guarding the place anymore, she doesn't have all the much to contend with aside from her lack of freedom. But she keeps to herself. Reads a lot." Draco must have looked confused because Watson offered an explanation to this momentarily, "The ministry have implemented a new scheme to help the surviving death eaters to some kind of redemption. They give them muggle books to, I don't know, open their minds or something. Narcissa has almost worked her way through the entire library." Watson said with a fond laugh.

"Did… did you speak to her?" Hermione could hear the longing in his voice, could tell he was on the verge of pressing Watson for every snippet of information she could provide about his mother, down to how she wore her hair in prison.

"Yeah. She misses you. Told me to tell you if I saw you. She heard about the speech you made at Hogwarts and said she was proud of you."

There was quiet for a moment and Hermione knew Draco well enough to know he would have been taking a moment to let it process, to think about his mother in the context of her loving him, being proud of him.

"I don't understand, Max." he said evenly, after a while, "When you hear her say that, how could you think she'd care about the blood status of the woman I'm with?" he asked, sounding confused.

And Hermione understood then what Watson had been hinting at. It had not been her age or inexperience or the burden of her personal drama, no, it had been her fucking blood status. She felt stupid for not realising it before, but for some reason, after the war, it seemed incomprehensible that anyone would still hold those opinions.

Watson sighed, "I know what you'd like to believe, Draco, but I think it is simply a matter of her accepting that society is the way it is now, that muggleborns are… well… certainly not equal to purebloods but not dirt either I suppose. But either way, that doesn't mean that we all should go marry one." she said this with a laugh that communicated just how little she thought of the idea. "I don't think your mother would like it."

"Well, I went along with what my mother and father liked for a long time." said Draco firmly, "And it did not get me anywhere that I would care to go again. I don't care that Hermione is muggleborn. In fact, I think it's an asset if anything. She teaches me things no pureblood would know. She opens my mind. I'd rather that than be with a woman whose only claim to my affections is that her ancestors were all wizards." he laughed sarcastically, "If that's what you want for yourself, that's fine, go ahead. But I'm good where I am."

"But Draco…"

He cut across her again and when he spoke this time, it was with a fierceness that Hermione had never heard from him before. "Let me put it to you this way, Max, if you are finding all of this too difficult to understand; if there were another war? I would fight for the light with every inch of my capabilities. I would _die _for people like Hermione and I would slit my own wrists before I saw the wizarding world poisoned by another pureblood obsessed lunatic. _Do you understand_? You see, I am still a fanatic. I just work for the other side now."

She could only picture the Auror nodding dumbly as she did not respond to Draco's speech. Hermione's heart had swollen with pride with his every word and she felt tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to run into the lounge room and hug him, tell him that she was proud of him too.

After a moment, she heard one of them stand up.

"I should go. Tod will be here in a little while to take over." said Watson.

"Alright. Tell him to come up if he gets too cold and wants some tea." responded Draco lightly, as if the previous conversation hadn't happened.

"Sure." they walked towards the door and Hermione heard it open. "Oh and Draco? I want you to know… I… I don't really care about all this blood purity stuff. I mean, I _do _but it's not that big of an issue for me anymore. New world and all that. I just want what's best for you. That's all."

Hermione wanted to let out a loud, sarcastic laugh at this but resolutely kept her mouth firmly shut.

"I understand." said Draco and, after a moment, the door closed again. Hermione could hear him walking around the lounge room, tidying up.

She took a minute to let her mind process what she'd heard.

At first she'd thought that Watson and Draco had just gotten comfortable together over the four days that she had been withdrawn, but now she supposed that they might have known each other previously. By the sounds of it, they were familiar. Hermione didn't know how she felt about that. She hadn't ever stopped to consider that Draco had a life outside of Hogwarts and Voldemort's inner circle. But he must have done. There must have been other people he spoke to, who he shared his life with. And apparently Max Watson was one of them. Hermione wondered if he had a best friend, or an uncle who taught him how to ride a broom, or grandparents who always gave him gifts that he hated every Christmas…

She realised then that though she _knew_ Draco Malfoy, she didn't know anything _about_ him. And he probably didn't know anything about her either. This was… Strange. And it brought up the question of their relationship in her mind.

She hadn't ever had the opportunity to tell him that she wanted to be with him before her week with Harry. And she wanted to. It wasn't that the last four days had allowed her to think, quite the opposite. They had allowed her to _stop _thinking, to stop analysing, to stop questioning. She had no doubt in her mind anymore that she wanted to consider Draco her partner, to tell people he was, to be with him properly, without any of the annoying subtext.

Hermione found she had no anger about what he'd done. It hadn't been malicious or vindictive, it had just been a mistake, an assumption. And she knew all about those. Sure, it had had unfortunate and destructive consequences but she realised that, despite that, she couldn't really hold it against him. After all, her situation with Harry was her own fault really. She'd ignored her gut feelings and underestimated his psychosis.

In the end, what Draco did was childish, yes, but she'd already known he was childish. And she'd wanted to be with him nonetheless _before _what had happened as a result of it.

After all, she'd seen with her own eyes how guilty he felt. Perhaps he would learn from it. Wasn't he already making it up to her? Hadn't he defended her to Max? Hadn't he stayed with her the last few days, cleaning up her flat and making sure she ate and showered, despite the fact that she hadn't said a word to him?

Yes. In her mind, he was already forgiven. And once she realised that, she felt something lift off her shoulders. It felt nice to forgive, light, freeing. It was liberating.

Hermione threw back the bed clothes and stood. She swayed slightly, her knees weak from being atrophied for so long, before she walked into the lounge room. She didn't feel tired anymore.

She found Draco in the kitchen, lost in thought while he did the dishes. By hand. Hermione almost laughed at his strangely muggle behaviour, before she saw it. For once, he had his sleeves rolled up and she could see the Dark Mark, shining on his forearm, as black as the day he got it. And she couldn't take her eyes off it. It was the first time she'd seen absolute proof of his past; he'd always worn long sleeves before.

After a minute, he seemed to sense her presence and looked up. He gave a start and said, "Hermione!" sounding shocked and worried.

He noticed her staring fixedly at his arm and with a grimace, hastily tried to tear his sleeve back down, but it seemed to be caught. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to see that." he said, clearly distressed.

"Don't." she ground out and it sounded more like a grunt than a word, it had been so long since she'd used her voice.

He stopped wrestling with his stubborn sleeve and stared at her in shock. "You spoke!"

Hermione cleared her throat. "I did."

"Are you… are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so… I feel weird." and she did. Her mind seemed to still be intent on being absent and she found it was an effort for her to remain present. She didn't feel tired anymore, just distant and out of it. "Could I have a cup of tea please?" she rasped.

"Yeah! Sure! If you… I can… Just go wait in the lounge room and I'll bring it to you!"

Hermione was shocked by how flustered he was. But obeyed him nonetheless. As she turned her back on him to move to the couch, she noticed his hand fly again to his sleeve again as he tried to pull it back down over the Dark Mark.

She collapsed down on the couch before Draco appeared moments later with two cups of tea. Hermione took hers gratefully and sipped at the hot liquid, feeling as if it were heating her vocal chords back to life. Draco sat down next her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Hermione smiled slightly, "You've already asked me that."

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Sorry."

"Are _you_?" she asked, perplexed by his agitated mood.

"Yeah! I'm fine!" he responded just a little too enthusiastically. Hermione raised an eye brow and he sighed. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what? You're being strange…"

"I… I'm scared, alright?" he said just a tad defensively.

"Why?"

"That you're about to curse me."

"Why would I do that?" she asked lightly.

"Because you're angry. About what I did." his defensiveness was giving way to more distress.

"Well, I glad you can read my mind, Draco. Here I was thinking I'd be able to actually tell you what I'm feeling but it seems there's no need. You already know." she didn't mean to sound too acidic but it frustrated her that he hadn't given her the opportunity to explain herself.

Draco seemed to flit between frustration and stress, before he said in a gush, "I'm really sorry, ok? I know I said that already but… I just… I can't believe I did what I did. I should never have ignored you… I should have let the _tovarasi _come when they wanted to. Please don't be angry at them. They really did want to come. But I convinced them not to… It was stupid and childish and selfish and… I don't deserve you… What I did was so fucked up… I'm sorry." he took a deep breath, looking more and more sorrowful with every word, "I just wanted to tell you that. I'll… I'll go now. I'm sorry."

He stood up and made to grab his cloak but Hermione held up a hand.

"Draco. Sit down." she said firmly. He did. "Why would I share a bed with you every night if I was still angry?"

"I guess I thought you were just… unaware of me."

Hermione laughed sarcastically, "Yeah. And here I was thinking I was clutching desperately at a warm, human shaped pillow." she scoffed, "Of course I was aware."

"Oh." was all he said.

"If there's one lesson I think you can take from this experience it's that you need to not try and do my thinking for me. If you're worried I'm overanalysing, _ask me_ and I'll tell you; if you're worried I'm angry, _ask me_ and I'll be honest. I'll always be honest with you. You can trust me, alright?"

He nodded, frowning.

Hermione had the impression that he'd had an entire speech prepared for the event of her coming back to reality and was now shocked that he didn't need it. She moved closer to him across the couch and wrapped an arm about his neck. "Draco, I forgive you and I understand why you did what you did."

To her distress, he carefully removed her arm from around his neck and moved away.

"Thank you. But I don't think I can forgive _myself_."

Hermione nodded, trying to look understanding when all she felt was hurt. "Alright."

They lapsed into an awkward silence. Hermione didn't know what to do with her hands as she thought about Draco's actions. A part of her respected him for not accepting her forgiveness, but that's not what she'd wanted. She'd wanted them to rewind back to the day that Harry had shown up, to the happiness she'd felt, the comfortability.

"Are you going to leave now?" she asked sheepishly.

"Not if you don't want me to." he replied.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Is this some vain attempt at chivalry, Draco?"

He grinned uncertainly, "Yeah, something like that."

In the absence of anything else to say, she merely nodded and decided to confront the subject that she had most wished to avoid. "So… Has there been any news about…?" she couldn't say his name, but Draco understood.

"There's been no sign of Potter."

"Did they go to the Forest of Dean? I told the Aurors he might go there."

"Yes, but there was no sign of him. Either that or he was very well hidden."

"What about Godric's Hollow?" Hermione's mind was ticking into action. She didn't like sitting on the sidelines and waiting for someone else to find the resolution. Whether it was some residual habit from the war or not, she wanted to participate in the hunt for Harry.

Draco nodded, unaware of her inner dialogue, "Empty. They searched the entire village."

Hermione frowned. All her theories about Harry began to materialize in her head as her palms started to itch uncomfortably. "I wish I knew what was wrong with him…" Draco raised an eyebrow but said nothing, "I mean… I know Blaise suggested polyjuice, and don't think it hasn't crossed my mind, but I didn't get the feeling that I was talking to someone else when he was here. There were occasional traces of Harry through the psychosis… And it couldn't be just about that, could it? The psychosis? He's too _changed_. I know about all the muggle mental disorders and though schizophrenia might be an option, it just feels more ominous than that." she stood up and began to pace the length of her lounge room, chewing her bottom lip, frustrated, "It can't be the _imperius _curse because Harry can throw that off, even a particularly powerful one. Fuck!" Draco jumped at her sudden loud exclamation, "I feel like it's right _there_!" she held her hand out in front of her body as if she was trying to touch something very real, "Like I should know what it is! It's not polyjuice, not psychosis, not the _imperius_ curse… I know it's not any lingering shadow of the piece of Voldemort's soul that had latched onto him before…" she gave a howl of frustration but deep down, very deep down, there was an excitement stirring. This is what she'd missed. She'd missed solving mysteries, fighting against evil…

Hermione suddenly grabbed her beaded bag, which had been left sitting on the coffee table. She pulled from it a few pieces of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink.

"What are you doing?" asked Draco, sounding worried.

"I'm writing to the ministry. He might be in Grimauld place and they can't get in there. Plus, I'd like to offer them my help. I know Harry better than anyone save maybe Ron. There must be some information I can provide and to be honest, I wasn't really together when they questioned me so…" she began feverishly scratching at the parchment as she continued to speak, "Then I'm going to write to McGonagall. I'm worried about Ginny and the Weasleys, they need protection from Harry. If he decided to target them, they may not be as lucky as me in the outcome."

Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. Hermione felt like she had more energy, when there was a purpose, a goal to achieve, than she had in weeks.

Suddenly, Draco's hand fell on her own as it slid across the parchment. "Hermione. I need you to listen to me, ok?" his words were careful and urgent. "Harry Potter is a _criminal_, not a new Dark Lord for you to defeat! Half the department of magical law enforcement is after him. And if they can't find him, what makes you think you can? You are one eighteen year old girl! Who, might I add, has just spent the last four days in a near catatonic state! I know that you played your part in bringing Riddle down, but Potter is not Riddle. He's a fugitive. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less. Let the Aurors do their job and don't interfere. You say you think the Weasley's need more protection? Don't you think that an entire department of trained professionals might have thought of that? You don't think they might have thought to check the house that Potter _owns_? You don't need to save everyone Hermione. Why don't you just focus on you for a while? Focus on getting past yet another traumatic experience on what was already a very long list."

Hermione was speechless. He'd hit the nail on the head and she knew it. The idea of not going out into the field to find Harry, to not spend day and night searching for him, was uncomfortable for her not because she didn't trust the Aurors to do their job. It was uncomfortable because she knew then that she would have to be with herself and deal with only her.

Draco was looking up at her pleadingly but Hermione was not going to be so easily placated. "So what?! You're suggesting that I just sit here and do _nothing_?!

"That is exactly what I'm suggesting." he responded evenly.

Hermione laughed as if the idea were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. "That's not possible."

"Why not?"

"Because! I can't… I don't… I'm not going to just sit here while the Aurors fail at finding him!" she could hear her voice rising in pitch to become shrill and grating even to her own ears.

"What exactly do you think you can do?" he asked calmly.

Hermione threw her hands up in the air in frustration, "I can help! I avoided being captured by Voldemort for over a year! I am the brightest witch of my age! I know Harry like the back of my hand!"

"No you don't." he said simply.

Anger bubbled up into her throat, "_What_?!"

"If you knew Potter like the back of your hand, why on earth did you allow him to enter your home at all, given what he has proved himself capable of?" asked Draco and she hated him for using logic against her.

"HE'S MY BEST FRIEND!" she shouted, glad that in this moment she had someone to shout at.

"Really?"

Hermione felt the wind blow out of her sails. He was right. Of course he was right…

"Hermione, he _was_ your best friend. Think about that for a second. Really think about it, about what that title meant, what it represented." said Draco softly.

For a moment, she was about to tell him off again, to keep right on shouting, but before she could, the images came almost unbidden to her mind. Harry's face, his smile, his eyes, his hands. The scared looking little boy of her first year, the budding hero, the wizarding world's messiah. And she'd been his left hand lieutenant. He knew her smile and her hands too. There was something so warm about trusting and loving someone the way she had Harry, knowing that he would always be there for her, that he knew which sweater was her favourite sweater, that he'd loved Ginny like she'd loved Ron and for a little while they'd shared that feeling with each other. They'd shared happiness.

Hermione felt it rising up from her stomach, through her throat. Her eyes stung with tears in that moment and all she could do was stare blindly at Draco as the betrayal hit her. To him it would have been silent. All he would have seen was her face crumple and her breath hitch but inside her it was an explosion. The feeling came, unrelenting, forcefully and moved her to a place beyond all sense. It came out of her mouth, her ears, her pores, her hair and the soles of her feet.

It surprised her that the world around hadn't just collapsed in on itself. How Draco could sit there, so calm, and look at her like that, his face crumpled with concern and pity; how the street lamps outside still shone; how the inhabitants of Diagon Alley continued to sleep peacefully was so totally beyond her that Hermione lost her mind for a moment. All at once she experienced blind reality and shattering insanity. Real insanity unlike anything that she had ever experienced.

The messiah was dead and the world slept on.

It felt as if there were two separate sides of herself lingering in her mind at that moment. One side mourned and grieved and told her to do anything to get rid of the pain. The other offered something new, something she'd never thought to do before.

Sit still, it said, sit still and wait.

And Hermione realised what she was doing, she saw the benefit, she saw the healing. She sat back down on the couch and, as the tears continued to pour down her face, she pitched sideways to lean her head in Draco's lap. He let her.

She wasn't going to fall back into depression or despair or grief, but she _was _going to allow herself to cry for her loss. She wasn't going to run away from this one.

Her friendship with Harry deserved her tears, but that was all she was giving it.

She loved Harry but now, she realised, she loved herself more.

* * *

A/N Thanks as always for all of the lovely reviews!

A guest reviewer asked whether or not it will be finished soon. IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW I SUGGEST YOU STOP READING NOW! Lol, as it stands, my plan is for 39 chapters so... soonish haha.

Oh and DuchessQueen? Thank you. :)


	28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

LIGHT OF SOME KIND

_"I must have blown a fuse or something because it was so dark in my mind. She came up to me with the sweetest face and she was holding a light of some kind."_

Three more days passed relatively uneventfully for Hermione and Draco, aside from two complications. The first being Hermione having a few long and exhausting conversations with both Teodora and McGonagall wherein she was forced to relive the events of the previous week in excruciating detail. Both her teachers were shocked and appalled by Harry's behaviour and applauded Hermione's courage in her escape. Hermione thought there was nothing to applaud. They had both also reiterated Draco's earlier words and urged her not to go out looking for Harry, to let the Aurors do their job. Hermione accepted this advice resignedly.

The second complication was the impromptu arrival of Auror Watson on Thursday night.

The woman had been openly shocked for a moment when Hermione opened her front door before plastering a look of false cheer on her face. She was prettier than Hermione remembered which only fueled the jealous fire boiling away in her stomach.

"Oh! Hermione! You're awake!" she said brightly.

"I am." Hermione replied shortly, stepping to the side so that the woman could enter her flat.

Watson moved past her, wearing a smile that did not reach her eyes and stood awkwardly in the centre of the lounge room.

After a moment, the Auror cleared her throat. "Where's Draco? Hasn't abandoned you has he?" she asked lightly and gave a tinkling laugh. Hermione wanted to hit her.

"No." said Hermione and felt a smug sort of satisfaction at what she said next, "He's in the shower. Tea?"

Watson blanched slightly before nodding enthusiastically, "Yes, of course."

Hermione moved into the kitchen and began fixing their drinks. She felt Watson hovering nervously in her peripheral vision. "I thought Tod was on tonight?" she asked casually.

"Uh, yes. I just thought I'd drop in to… to see how you are."

Hermione felt exhausted by the conversation already and turned to the other woman, crossing her arms. "You can drop the pretext, Watson."

The other woman narrowed her eyes, the nervous energy around her suddenly dissipating. "I wasn't aware there was any pretext, Granger."

Hermione sighed and rubbed her hand across her forehead wearily. "What do you want here? What's your game?"

"My _game_?" said Watson with a sarcastic laugh.

"Yes, yes, your game. I'm not interested in having a verbal sparring match… Or any other kind of sparring match for that matter. I want to understand what this situation is about. I want to know why you're lying to me." she said with a sigh.

"At what point have I lied, exactly?" asked the Auror petulantly.

Hermione quoted her, "_I just came to see how you are_. You and I both know that isn't true, you came to see Draco. And that's fine with me. I'm not going to try and manipulate him into spending time around people only _I_ deem appropriate…" she gave Watson a pointed look, "I just do not want to be a part of this game playing."

"Fine." said Watson coldly, "I came to see Draco. Happy now?"

"Not particularly." Hermione turned back to making their tea, "If you wait, I'm sure he'll be out soon."

And so the Auror waited. For ten minutes, Hermione sipped tea with her and tried to talk amicably about Auror training, feeling the whole time that she had won the moral high ground. She'd been the better person and she was proud of herself for that. Of course, if she was honest, she _had _wanted a sparring match. Auror or not, she didn't like this woman and would have felt a great deal of satisfaction at having the opportunity to jinx her. Though, ultimately, she knew that the satisfaction she felt at being the more mature woman of the two of them was far greater.

When Draco got out of the shower he stumbled into a tense and forced conversation and Hermione was happy to retreat into the comfortability of her bedroom to read while he spoke with Watson.

This time, she closed the door and did not listen.

She was powerless over his guilt and his actions, just as she was powerless over Harry's choices and it felt nice to finally be able to admit that and let go of some of her stress. Acknowledging her powerlessness wasn't shaming, it was liberating. If Draco wanted to insinuate himself into her home and play the role of her personal body guard or butler, she was fine with that. Hermione was just happy to have him around. If he wanted to have friendships with people she didn't exactly like, she was not going to stop him because doing that would make her too much like Lucius, and too much like Max. She didn't want to interfere with his healing. She knew that it didn't matter how many times she told him that she forgave him, or that he didn't need to do so much, he wouldn't listen. And trying to control him would only serve to drive him away.

And so, Hermione remained impassive.

After an hour or so, he came to bed and Hermione snuggled up to him just as she always did. He seemed surprised at this but did not try to talk to her about it.

She had decided days ago not to push the subject of their relationship with him, simply choosing to let him do whatever he felt he needed to do.

Hermione had, with much hand wringing and nervousness, chosen to take the remainder of the week off school so as to fully centre herself before she needed to tackle her classes again. This was much to the anguish of the rest of the _tovarasi_. After she had re-entered reality, Draco had been all for inviting their comrades over for a celebratory party by the sounds of it. But Hermione had told him firmly that this had to be put off, for the same reasons that she chose not to go immediately back to school. She needed to rest back into equilibrium. It had been nice to spend a few days whiling away the time talking with Draco or nesting on the couch with a book and not caught up in drama or heavy conversation.

As a compromise, and because the _tovarasi_ seemed on the brink of breaking down her front door just to see her, Hermione had suggested that they all come to her house on Saturday night. This was in place of the usual meeting that only the female members attended.

Hermione had written out eight pleading letters detailing her intentions and her reasons for avoiding her comrades and Hogwarts and had received seven grudging replies. Isobel was the only one who had not gotten back to her.

By Friday night, she was, naturally, in full panic mode about this. She was beginning to think she might have to choose between her best friend and her soon to be boyfriend and the prospect scared her immensely.

"She hates me doesn't she?" Hermione exclaimed to Draco for what felt like the fiftieth time while he sat on her couch reading. Rain was falling steadily outside, making the air feel muffled and it was driving her crazy. She felt like a caged animal.

"She doesn't hate you." he responded in a bored voice, without looking up from his book.

"Well why wouldn't she reply then? Why?" she demanded, noting the hint of a plea in her voice.

"I don't know."

"Oh, thanks for the help." snapped Hermione bitterly.

Draco sighed and put the book down wearily, "What do you want me to say? We've had this conversation fifteen times already."

"I don't know, alright?!" she said and collapsed down on the couch next to him, "I just want you to tell me what to do."

"I think you should just wait for her to come to you. As I've said already. Fifteen times." he deadpanned.

Hermione crossed her arms and sulked. "Ok! Ok! I get it!"

They sat in silence for a few moments and Draco re-opened his book. She tapped her foot nervously before getting up and looking out the balcony window for a few moments only to establish that it was still raining and she still felt like crap. She then walked into the kitchen, forgot why she'd gone in there, and entered the lounge room again. She would have put a record on if the player had not been broken…

"Why don't we have dinner?" asked Draco, clearly exasperated by her agitation.

Hermione nodded, eager to do something to pull her out of her distress, "Ok. Did you have anything in mind?"

"I could cook." he replied, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

She snorted, "You can cook?!"

"Yes, Hermione. I can cook." he said, sounding stung.

Hermione couldn't help herself. She laughed. "Alright, well feel free."

Draco scowled and slammed his book shut. He got up, pushing past her into the kitchen and began rummaging through her cupboards.

She was just about to follow him, grinning as she imagined the monumental mess he was no doubt going to make, when there was a knock on her door. He paused in his search and looked up at her.

"It's probably one of the Aurors. Hold on." she said lightly and moved to open the door.

When she did, she froze. Draco appeared behind her.

"Hermione, who is… Oh." he stopped short.

"Hi." said Isobel with what Hermione could tell was completely false bravery.

"Hi." she responded quietly and moved aside, inviting Isobel in.

The three of them stood awkwardly in the lounge room for a few moments and eventually Draco cleared his throat.

"I'm going to go, alright?"

"It's ok Draco, really…" began Isobel but he waved her down.

"No, it's fine. You two need to talk and I need to pick up some stuff for dinner so…" he grabbed his cloak and scarf, donning them and making towards the door. He opened it but paused before exiting. He turned and looked at Isobel. "I'm glad you're here." he said and disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

Isobel smiled slightly, sat down on the couch and looked up Hermione. She patted the seat beside her and Hermione sat.

"So." said Isobel, "What's been happening with you lately?"

Hermione laughed nervously, both pleased and a little fearful that Isobel did not sound angry or upset. "Oh, you know… This and that. Kidnapped last week, so that was fun…"

They both chuckled. After a moment, Hermione found her seriousness again and grasped Isobel's hand between both of hers. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

"It's actually alright, Hermione. Seriously." said Isobel firmly but Hermione was not convinced.

"No, it's not. Please don't do that. Don't just pretend. I need you to be honest with me!" she said, almost frustrated.

Isobel frowned and looked down at her hands, "Alright. Yes, I'm upset. And I'm angry."

"Thank you. For being honest." said Hermione, feeling crushed.

Isobel sighed, her face crumpling in concentration as she seemed to battle to find the right words. "But, see ,the thing is… That's alright. I mean… Are you happy?"

"Yes." replied Hermione without a second thought.

Isobel nodded approvingly, "And I think he is happy… Or else he wouldn't have stayed here to take care of you…" Hermione did not respond to this, thinking privately that he only stayed because he felt guilty. Isobel continued, "So… It's alright. Yes I could kick and scream and have a tantrum but what's the point? I love you and you love him…"

Hermione choked on her own saliva, "_You think I love him_?!" she laughed, "Isobel, we've only been doing this since, I don't know, New Years? A month. A month! And nothing has even really happened, I really don't want you to…"

Isobel cut off her ranting with a look, "I don't care." she said pointedly, "That's not what I meant. _I_ love _you_ and I want you to be happy. If you are happy with him, then I will be happy for you." she said with definitive finality.

Hermione stared at her for a moment, almost lost in her awe at just how mature her friend was capable of being.

After a few seconds of silence, she stood and beckoned Isobel into the kitchen so that she could make them both tea. Isobel followed her without question and once the kettle was filled with water and put on to boil, Hermione turned to her friend, frowning.

"Why didn't you write back?"

Isobel shrugged, "I wanted to talk in person but I knew Draco would be here and I couldn't pluck up the courage to come."

Hermione nodded, "Right…" she turned back to prepare the tea but Isobel stopped her.

"You know, Hermione, I'm not in love with him."

"What?" asked Hermione, thrown.

"I'm not in love with him." she repeated, "It's… it's a crush, really. I mean, it's not like I think about him all the time or feel awful about not being with him. That night that I…" her voice faltered before she continued, "That night with the lake, I just felt, I don't know. Rejected? That's what tipped me over the edge… But it wasn't love. And anyway, I know I couldn't be in love with him."

"How?" asked Hermione, wishing she possessed the same sense of decisiveness over her own feelings.

"Because if I were in love with him, I would only think of him, wouldn't I? I wouldn't be able to think of… Anyone else." there was a suppressed smile in Isobel's voice when she said this.

Hermione rounded on her friend and narrowed her eyes, grinning. "Anyone else? You wouldn't happen to mean a specific person here would you?"

"Maybe." Isobel said slowly, trying to hide her uncontainable smile behind a curtain of her blonde hair.

"Who?" Hermione demanded.

"I can't say just yet." responded Isobel with a shy grin.

Hermione laughed and brandished a teaspoon at her friend threateningly, "Oh no, you can't do that! Tell me! Is it Blaise?"

"No!"

"Not Eli…" said Hermione uncertainly, hoping for Padma's sake that it wasn't.

"Hermione! No!" cried Isobel, looking affronted, "It's… It's one of the Aurors. But I don't want to say anything just yet! I don't want to jinx it."

Hermione gawked at her friend for a moment and then grimaced, "It's not Tod, is it? That guy's ridiculous."

Isobel laughed, "No, it's not Tod."

Hermione handed the other girl a mug of tea and they returned to the lounge room. She felt relieved. She had spent so many weeks thinking that this conversation would be so much harder. It was almost too convenient that Isobel should be having feelings for someone else. But then, Hermione could hardly talk considering her own situation with Draco.

She felt happy and safe. The shadow of Harry and his treatment of her was still hanging over her but she felt contented despite it. She'd admitted powerlessness and her mind was finally allowing her to just be happy, to be in the moment. She was so full of joy that Isobel was not upset and was moving on from Draco, that she could barely articulate it. So when the two of them sat down and put their mugs on the coffee table, Hermione drew Isobel into a tight hug that lasted for a long time. Her emotions were so overwhelming that she wanted to weep.

In the back of her mind she was constructing a plan to get Isobel to reveal the identity of this new person so that Hermione could find them and threaten them with violence if they ever hurt her best friend.

But right then, the only things that mattered were that she had Isobel back and there were no longer any barriers between herself and Draco. She finally began to feel as if she could live _in_ something, instead of apart from it. Hermione had felt disconnected and aloof for so long that the feeling was foreign and odd. She felt like she was a part of real love for the first time in many months and it was both beautiful and saddening.

Her and Isobel sat and talked for a while longer, the conversation mostly consisting of Hermione playfully trying to get her friend to talk about her crush and Isobel giggling and refusing to give over any new information. When Draco returned after a while, he wore an uncertain and wary look on his face that suggested he wasn't quite sure what to expect when he walked in. But he smiled when he saw the two girls talking merrily and the tenseness that seemed to be hanging over the room faded.

Isobel shared another cup of tea with Hermione while Draco banged and clattered around in the kitchen, and then left, promising that she would return for the _tovarasi _dinner the following day.

"Did that go alright?" asked Draco when Hermione joined him in the kitchen.

"Yeah." she responded, beaming.

"Feel better now?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I do."

He did not ask her what was said or what had passed while he'd been out, but simply pushed a few cloves of garlic into her hands and ordered her to dice them. Hermione liked that he didn't push her to talk about it. He trusted her.

After careful observation, Hermione finally managed to establish that Draco was preparing carbonarra and, when she sat down with him on her couch to eat it, she discovered that it was actually quite nice. He hadn't been lying. He could most certainly cook.

After they finished their dinner and Draco, to Hermione's shock, had washed up their dishes, they settled down in silence to read. She felt comfortable and warm, cocooned in the atmosphere they had created, sitting quietly beside him as they both buried their noses in books. The flat was quiet but free of tension or uneasiness and Hermione felt almost as if she was drunk with the feeling. She went to bed early and Draco followed soon after, pulling her into their usual position to sleep.

She didn't resist him. She didn't feel like she could spend any more time or energy resisting anymore. It was so much more pleasurable to just give in.

* * *

The _tovarasi _arrived the following day at six o'clock and Hermione's mood from the previous night had not disintegrated in the slightest. She felt her heart filling to burst with emotion just at the sight of them all, her comrades, seeing how happy they all were that she was safe. She felt loved and appreciated, and rather than thinking resentfully of all the times she was _not_, she just felt grateful that she could experience it in that moment.

She felt as if she could not hug any single member of her _tovarasi_ tighter. Every one of them was adding to her overall feeling of benevolence and love.

There was a pause though, in her good hearted joviality, when her and Draco, once seeing that the guests were assembled comfortably around the lounge room and conversation was not slow, had retreated together to the kitchen. It has been wordless, a silent acknowledgement but nonetheless it had freaked her out just a little.

He was helping her fix refreshments for the _tovarasi_. As if it were _their _flat and _their _guests. He was playing the host to her hostess. It felt odd and Hermione had to pause just to stare at him fetching coke from the fridge for Isobel when she realised it.

But it was a nice sort of odd. The sort of odd she could get used to.

Once they had helped everyone to drinks, Hermione sat down on the floor next to Isobel while Draco stood over by the window. It was at that point, when she was confronted with the possibility of having some real conversation with her friends, that Hermione begun to feel nervous. She was scared they would ask about her time spent with Harry and, despite the fact that she'd spoken about it so many times she felt anesthetized to it, she worried about Ginny and her reaction. It wouldn't be fair on her if the evening turned into an ongoing analysis of Harry's behaviour.

She was determined to prevent that and so, with this in mind, she looked up at Padma and Eli who were sitting very close together, "So it's nice to see you two have finally stopped dabbling in denial!" she said, grinning cheekily.

Padma shot her a mockingly cold stare but Eli laughed, "You know we could see the same about you!" he retorted, shooting a knowing smile at Draco.

Hermione laughed and Draco looked at Blaise with a smirk, "How does it feel being the only bachelor left, Blaise?"

Blaise chuckled from the couch where he was squeezed between Ginny and Luna. "Like I'm on top of the world." he said, draping an arm over both girls. Ginny threw him off and giggled.

Luna seemed completely unfazed and simply looked at Blaise with a polite kind of interest, "You know I've never thought about having sex with you." she said to him, tilting her head slightly.

The group laughed uproariously at Blaise's stricken look.

"Oh, but how could you not!" said Juliet from the floor. She adopted an upper-class accent and waved her butterbeer around pretentiously, "He's so rich and well bred! He's god's gift to women!"

"Hey! I'm not that bad!" cried Blaise, looking affronted.

Before Juliet could counter, Draco put his hands up in an effort to quieten the riotous group, "Alright! Alright! Before this gets too out of hand, I wanted to propose a toast!"

Hermione stared up at him as he raised his glass, looked directly at her and said, "To friendship."

"To friendship!" she echoed with the rest of the _tovarasi _and rose her cup of tea before taking a sip.

"Oh god, that's so cheesy, Draco." said Isobel with a roll of her eyes.

"There's no cheese without crackers!" said Juliet brightly.

After that, the conversation flowed freely and Draco came to sit beside Hermione on the floor. He tapped her on the knee and spoke into her hair, "Why don't you put a record on?" his voice was quiet so that only she could hear.

"I can't. The record player is broken." she responded, feeling a little stab of sadness at the thought.

Draco inclined his head, directing her to look behind him. When she did, her heart almost stopped.

There, sitting on the spindly table that she had conjured, sat Remus' old record player.

"How…?" she whispered in awe.

"I had it mended." he said simply.

Hermione gave a little, joyous cry and launched herself into his body, causing them both to topple backwards into the floor. She planted a kiss squarely on his lips, smiling the whole time.

The group cheered and whistled loudly but Hermione ignored them. Nothing, _nothing_, could contain her gratitude at that moment. She felt truly blessed that she had this man in her life, someone who had returned one of her most prized possessions to her when she had thought it was lost forever.

She pushed herself off Draco and crawled towards her pile of records, pulling out the Bob Marley record she'd listened to with George so long ago, thinking that nothing would fit the atmosphere of the room and the feelings in her chest any better than that.

* * *

Hours later, close to midnight, the _tovarasi _seemed to be no closer to calming down or leaving, much to Hermione's delight. Her and Draco sat side by side on the couch, their bodies touching from shoulder to thigh and their hands intertwined. The rest of the _tovarasi_ were draped around her flat, filling the room with chatter and laughter. Hermione was so overcome with emotion that she couldn't risk speaking as she stared around at her friends and felt Draco's palm pressed against her own.

Eli and Padma were giggling and talking in the kitchen as they prepared more drinks and food for the group. Luna, Juliet, Isobel and Susan were laying on the Persian rug, all bent over a book and jovially arguing about its contents. These conversations combined with the record playing on her newly repaired record player were making the room feel comfortably full of noise.

Hermione only noticed then that Blaise and Ginny were missing though she had, at no point, seen them leave. She was about to turn to Draco to ask if he'd seen them when he put his hand on her arm and gestured with his head towards the closed balcony door.

And there they were, bundled up in their cloaks, talking out on her balcony. She could only see them through the foot long gap in the curtains but that was view enough. Hermione couldn't understand what was taking place in front of her eyes. How long had they been out there? And why?

Blaise smiled at something Ginny had said and Ginny laughed at his retort. Something passed between them then Blaise lifted a hand to brush over her cheek. To Hermione's surprise, Ginny didn't bat him away but instead put her own hand over the top of his, running her thumb along his knuckles.

Hermione knew the look on Ginny's face. She'd worn it herself, many times.

She looked back at Draco to find him smiling.

"I'm glad she's getting over Potter." he said in a soft voice.

Hermione frowned, "I'm not sure that's what's happening there Draco. Ginny's not like that."

"What do you mean?"

"I think she's distracting. Which is fine, really, if it helps her to feel a little saner. But it worries me. I don't think Blaise should be led to believe that she might love him and I'm not sure that Ginny's in the right state of mind to be able to articulate that."

Draco nodded, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I'll have to talk to him." he suddenly turn his head into her neck and nuzzled at her skin, "See what you're doing to me? Spending time with you has made me all sentimental."

Hermione giggled, "Yes, because I'm _so_ sentimental myself…"

"Well, if I can't blame you, who can I blame?" he whispered and planted a kiss on her jaw line.

She shivered and subconsciously squeezed her legs together. This was the first time that he'd been affectionate with her since she'd woken up, not counting of course the position they slept in, and she was beginning to feel those same thrills of anticipation zapping up and down her spine.

He continued to pepper her neck with kisses before Hermione put a firm hand on his arm. "I think you might have to stop doing that."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not entirely sure I can be trusted to remember that there are other people in the room if you persist." she gave him a meaningful look and he laughed, drawing away from her slightly.

"Ok! I'll stop." he said, grinning smugly.

Hermione let out a nervous breath, her eyes skimming over Padma and Eli still giggling in the kitchen. There was something secretive and underhand about the way the two of them touched each other. It wasn't demonstrative or over the top. Hermione noticed as she watched them that occasionally Padma would brush Eli's hand with the back of her own and it was so deliberate, so careful but also loving and familiar. She was struck by how differently they all shared intimacy in love. Padma and Eli were quiet about it, sort of sweet in an innocent way. Somehow Hermione couldn't imagine them having sex; it was almost like thinking about her parents in that light. She knew it probably happened but it felt odd to spend time thinking about it.

Hermione turned her head to look back out at Ginny and Blaise. _Their _intimacy was flirtatious and electrically charged. It was all in looks and body language, like how Ginny stood with her hips dipped slightly towards Blaise or how he seemed to be deliberately putting himself into her personal space. There was the stance of two attractive people who knew they were attractive and knew the other person thought they were attractive. It was arrogant and Hermione found that she was both jealous of the seductive confidence steaming of both of them and also repulsed by it.

She then looked to her and Draco who were by far more effusive in their affection than the other two couples. Their bodies were in constant contact and when they were not, the two of them moved around each other like it was a carefully choreographed dance. She liked to think there was an air of power in their partnership, of influence. They complimented each other but also stood separately. They would never be 'Draco and Hermione' or 'Hermione and Draco'. That felt all wrong. Like they were one in the same. HermioneandDraco. But they weren't. They were two clashing entities that sometimes had a chemical reaction that would explode in anger or lust or amusement or affection. That was just them.

It was not until two in the morning that the _tovarasi_ left. Hermione noticed as she said goodbye to them that Blaise and Ginny were keeping very close to each other and she had a feeling that this would not be the end of their night.

Finally, her flat was silent but for the record still playing. But there was something else, a different kind of charge in the air that she couldn't quite make out. She made her way into the bedroom to find Draco sitting up in bed, looking at her.

Hermione knew then, by the look on his face, that it was not the end of her night either. They would not sleep yet.

Suddenly she felt ill at ease. For the first time, she almost wanted to suggest he go back to Hogwarts.

It felt like one of those defining moments. She could choose one way or the other and both seemed just as terrifying.

But just as Hermione felt herself sinking into analytical thinking, into indecision, a voice spoke in the back of her mind. It told her not to back away now, not when she was so close, _so close_, to love.

Hermione took two steps forward, paused, and then rushed through the following four. She joined Draco on the bed.

He smiled.

* * *

A/N Wow. I did not know I was capable of writing such lovey dovey fluff! Oh well, I felt it was needed. Many 'aws' in this chapter I hope! It's totally not because I might have a man around now... Who's a bit lovely... Shit.

Tom Felton me up - I don't know if this is deliberate but you've disable private messaging on your account! This makes me sad as I'd really love to reply to your reviews! xx


	29. Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

CIRCLE OF LIGHT

_"I'm gonna roll you over, gonna peel you back and expose your tender centre, watch the juices flow from the cracks. I'm gonna peel you out of your protective shell or I might have to break right in there and raise some hell."_

Hermione sat in front of Draco on the bed, propped up on her knees with about two feet of space lying between them. He was still smiling at her, his eyes all crinkled up and his cheeks reddened, like she was the epitome of beauty, like she was the one and only reason he ever felt any happiness in this world. It was a smile that touched her and made her want to weep.

That she could make him that happy, that she could be the reason that he was smiling at her like that was overwhelming.

But as she studied him, as she allowed her eyes to wander away from his glowing smile, she began to notice the nervous energy that clung to him as well. His fingers were twisting themselves in her bed sheets a little, and his toes were twitching almost imperceptibly. She reached out a hand and laid it on his outstretched knee, giving him a warm, reassuring smile.

She knew why he was nervous. She knew what he was thinking. She was thinking the same thing.

He leant forward just as she did and they both laughed, drawing back again.

Draco lifted his hand and tugged on a curl that had escaped the loose bun on the back of her head, so that it stretched and bounced back.

Hermione filled her lungs with air and, deciding not to care what it was Draco wanted to do, moved onto her hands and knees, crawling towards him. As she did, he moved backwards so that he was no longer sitting but lying on her bed. Her hands landed either side of his head while her knees sat to one side of his body and she stared down at him.

The smile was gone, to be replaced by a deep look, an intense look.

She dropped her head and allowed herself to kiss him. He kissed her back, and so began the cycle that would last for quite a while. She would occasionally have to stop for air and he would allow her only a few seconds grace before he kissed her again, only pausing when he needed to come up to breath as well, but she would only repeat his earlier process. As they did this, her body lowered slowly onto his until they were chest to chest, arms encircling each other.

They kissed for what felt like hours. There were no words, no wondering hands, only lips on lips and clashing tongues. She lay on top of him for a while, until he took charge and pushed her over to lie on top of her. Then, when it had become too heated, they both sat up, side by side like they had done on New Year's Eve. That had progressed into facing each other on their knees, the entire lengths of both their bodies pressed together. This turned into her straddling his hips as he sat on the edge of the bed. The first lengthy pause in their kissing was Hermione's choice as she'd needed to get up to fetch a glass of water. Draco had accosted her on her way back, pushing her up against her bedroom wall, his hands valiantly moving no lower than her back.

There was no seriousness to the situation and Hermione loved that. She was having fun. Simple fun. Like watching a good movie. When Draco got too enthusiastic and his teeth clashed against her own, neither of them reacted with embarrassment, they would just laugh and continue.

He was making her feel light, like she was perfect in that moment, like she was faultless and invincible.

They were there for a good while, the arches of her feet beginning to ache from standing on her tiptoes, when it happened.

The first button was undone.

It had been Hermione that had started it. Her hands had almost absent-mindedly snuck up Draco's chest and had fumbled for a moment on the top button of his shirt before it sprung open. After that, every other button on either of their clothes followed the first. Draco's shirt went quickly, followed by Hermione's. Her jeans and his pants joined the growing pile until the both of them were clad on nothing but their underwear. She had allowed him to discard her clothes almost without thought, it felt simply natural. After all, she'd thought about feeling his skin on hers for a long time.

It was at this point that they both stopped and took a step back to survey the other's body.

And there was another defining moment for her. The chance to walk away was there, implied by the open door and the distance between them. But Hermione could not drag her eyes away.

His skin was pale and almost flawless. There was a hardness to his body that perfectly counteracted the soft fleshiness of her own skin. He wasn't overly muscular really; he looked lithe and catlike rather than strong and domineering. No, the dominance was in the way he held himself, the way he looked at her.

There was so much equality to the two of them. Ron had always been much taller and much stronger than her, making her feel like the damsel in distress from a romance novel. But Draco wasn't like that. He was barely a head taller than her, his hands only slightly larger than her own and her hips were wider than his. He felt like a match, someone who's sum of parts equated to the same as her own. There was comfort in that, she found. It made her feel less like she had to be feminine or mild. She felt as if she and Draco were both equal parts feminine and masculine. Equally strong, equally proud and equally powerful. But she hadn't noticed any of this until she saw him standing before her, bare and exposed.

He was beautiful and even though it may have been her hormones talking, she felt in that moment that she might love him.

She smiled.

Hermione realized after a moment standing like this, with Draco's eyes moving all over her body and pausing at all the right places, such as her chest, her hips and her legs, that he was once again attempting to hide his right arm. He still did not want her to see the Dark Mark.

She moved towards him decisively and, to his alarm, yanked his arm out from behind his back. He tried to pull away but she held firm and brought it up into the light so that she could see.

To her surprise, she was not repulsed by it. Not in the slightest. In fact, it made her love him more. She bent her head and pressed a kiss to the blackened skin. Draco gasped.

"What are you doing?!" he cried, panicked.

"I'm accepting you Draco. Deal with it." she said firmly, her fingers sliding backwards and forwards over the mark. "I have scars too. Are you disgusted by them?"

She dropped his hand and pulled away from him, lifting her right arm to brandish the word carved into her skin there. He stared at it for a moment before she then gestured to the long, thin, faded line that ran from her left shoulder to her right hip, left from the battle in the department of mysteries in her fifth year. She lifted her left hand so that he might see the scar she'd given herself mere months ago.

"No." he said after a moment and moved towards her so that he might return her earlier gesture and kiss each of her scars individually. He lingered for a long time over the one Bellatrix had left.

His kissing her arm slowly turned into him kissing her lips again. Finally, she was able to feel the warm, intricate pleasure she was anticipating at having her bare skin pressed against his as he drew her into a hug. They backed awkwardly towards the bed and Hermione let him push her backwards so that they fell together onto her mattress.

She was momentarily shocked when his kissing reached a new level of force and intensity. He had shifted onto his side while she lay on her back and his right hand explored her body freely, though he danced away from her breasts or the elastic of her underpants. This frustrated her. She wanted him to touch her in more stimulating places than just her stomach or her shoulders.

Hermione lay her hand on top of his, breaking their kiss, and as she looked into his eyes, moved it down her body. He was frowning as their hands reached the forbidden boundary, the line of her underpants. She allowed him to figure out the rest and was not disappointed as his fingertips dipped under the thin piece of fabric.

He was being too slow. Far too slow.

Hermione was about to direct him again when she caught the cheeky smile that was crawling up his face. He knew exactly what he was doing and seemed to enjoy the control he had over her. The bastard.

She spread her legs, tilting her pelvis upwards in an attempt to urge him on and for a moment, he lost himself. His fingers sunk down over her clit in one fast movement. They explored her, feeling out the new territory and Hermione moaned at the exploration. There was no skill or experience in his touch but she didn't care. He was touching her exactly where she needed him to and that was enough for right then. The teaching would come later.

Her eyes sunk closed as one finger drifted lower and lower before pushing inside her.

She'd been there before, other men had been there before, and as Draco moved in and out of her slowly, staring mesmerized at her face, she felt the familiar discomfort of being only half filled. It was exquisite, of course, but the ache in her abdomen only wanted more. There was more space to fill; more nerves to touch that one finger could not reach.

Hermione was aware of her moaning, distantly. But then she became aware of Draco's moaning. Her eyes snapped open to find him staring down at the hand that was lost between her legs, his face contorted in a sort of painful grimace as deep, guttural sounds were springing from his half closed mouth.

She'd never heard a man make noises before.

Hermione tugged on his jaw so that his face turned to look at her. They kissed again and the mixture of the feelings, of the things happening to two separate areas of her body caused her emotions to crash through the top of her head. She almost did not understand why she wasn't literally bursting all over the bed, all over Draco's fingers.

Suddenly, he withdrew his hand and Hermione wanted to hit him before she realized what he was doing.

Her underpants were down by her knees before she had a chance to say anything at all. By the time her thoughts on the matter were collected, they were off and lying somewhere on her bedroom floor where Draco had flung them. He moved up her body and drove an arm underneath her shoulder blades, lifting her up to a sitting position so that he could wrestle with the clasp of her bra. Hermione was surprised when, after only a few moments, the fabric fell off her skin and her bare breasts tumbled out.

Strangely, she felt no urge to cover herself though she'd never been this naked in front of anyone. She was comfortable with Draco and unashamed of how she looked to him.

He lowered her back down reverentially, the nervous energy disintegrating now that he had gotten her naked, his eyes flying over her exposed body as if he could not look at any one place enough and didn't know where to start. His hands hovered over her skin, unsure of where to touch, not knowing what would feel the best.

Hermione allowed this to continue for only a few minutes before just laying there while he drank in the sight of her became unbearable. She needed more. She rolled onto her side and hooked her fingers under the elastic of his shorts. He looked shocked, then elated, then confused before rolling onto his back and allowing her to expose him properly.

She had to stop for a moment when she saw his cock laying across his stomach, curled slightly to the left. Draco's hand moved down his body and gripped it tightly. It was just _there_ both frightening and inviting at the same time. She didn't know what she wanted to do with it but instinct was telling her to do something, anything, whether it be to touch it, suck it or put it inside her. She wanted all of that.

Suddenly the situation became very real. The implications of their position were impossible to avoid.

"We don't have to do it." said Draco softly, correctly interpreting Hermione's silence.

"I know." she whispered, still frozen.

"We can stop." he said, sitting up slightly.

"I know." she repeated.

They sat like that for a moment, both completely naked, both entirely vulnerable.

Eventually, Draco got up onto his knees and moved towards her. She was glad he did because she knew that she would not have been able to move first. She was too transfixed by fear and anticipation. His lips met hers again and one of his hands rested of her shoulder, pushing her softly backwards. She did not resist.

He came to rest between her thighs as they continued to kiss. Hermione hugged him with her entire body, her palms splayed on his shoulder blades and her ankles linked behind his lower back. This position allowed the very tip of his cock to occasionally press against her clit and every time it did, Hermione felt that same explosion out of the top of her skull. She could tell he was trying to avoid allowing it to happen and so she tightened the grip her legs had around his body, forcing him to press up against her totally. He moaned.

For a while they lay like this, rocking up and down slowly, building each other up, intensifying the feeling. Their breathing became panting and Hermione felt herself becoming more and more wet at the contact. His skin was hot and sweaty and hers was the same but it all felt like an exercise in futility. What they were doing was dabbling on the edge of ecstasy, never allowing themselves any real feeling.

Hermione let out a frustrated moan.

"Just put it in." she ground out.

He stopped moving, "What?"

"Just do it!" she half demanded.

Without breaking eye contact, his hand moved down between their two bodies and grasped his cock. After a second, her hand joined his and together they placed the head at her opening.

"Are you sure?" he breathed, his longing evident in his voice.

Hermione nodded and he pushed forwards. It was happening, _really_ happening. She was about to lose her virginity and she had no idea how she felt about it at all. But her mind was not allowed much room to chatter over the beat of her arousal. Her body wanted him. That was good enough for right then.

"Slowly." she said as he began to stretch her.

It hurt. It really hurt and Hermione wanted to stop. She wanted to run away from him. But then, as he moved his hand away, his knuckles brushed against her clit and she was reminded of why she wanted it. She wanted to be filled.

"It's really tight." said Draco, grimacing.

"I know." she responded, panting heavily, "Just keep going."

He pushed harder and Hermione let out a cry of pain.

"I'm hurting you!" he gasped, trying to pull out but she gripped his body between her legs, not allowing him to go anywhere.

"It's supposed to hurt! I'm ok!" she puffed, her face scrunched up as the stinging intensified.

She could see his reluctance but he pressed on until she could feel his pelvis pushed up against her thighs and she knew he could not go any further.

"Is it in all the way?" she asked.

He looked down. "Yeah, I think so."

They both hung, suspended in that moment, knowing what they'd just done, knowing what they now meant to each other.

"What does it feel like?" she whispered after a minute.

"Wet." he said instantly, "Tight. Warm. It's intense…"

His eyes closed and, slowly, he began to rock on top of her, letting himself slide in and out of her slightly. For Hermione, it was both agony and pleasure. Her gasps of pain were starting to intermingle with moans of excitement.

Draco's body was getting tenser; his muscles were turning into harder, angular points under her hands as the rocking became thrusting and the pain and pleasure intensified as the pressure increased.

Hermione closed her eyes and let the feelings wash over her but just as soon as it had started, it stopped.

His whole body suddenly became taught like a bow strike, he let out a loud groan that almost turned into a guttural shout and then liquid poured out of her and ran over her thighs.

His body went limp and his head crashed down into the curve of her neck. He was panting.

"I'm sorry." he said.

"It's ok."

"I'm really sorry."

"Draco, it's fine." she laughed and patted his shoulder.

They lay like that for a moment. Hermione continued to move, unable to stop herself from wanting it to continue even though she knew it couldn't. With every twitch of her pelvis Draco shuddered until, eventually, he pulled out and flopped onto the bed beside her with a contented sigh.

Hermione stared at the ceiling, overcome with the sudden and inexplicable desire to laugh. Here she was, in a tiny flat above Diagon Alley, lying naked in bed with Draco Malfoy, having just lost her virginity to him. She knew that there were a number of emotions that she should have been feeling in that moment, but all she could do was see the ridiculousness of the whole thing. She even found it funny that he'd come too quickly. Not for any superficial reason, just that Draco always acted like he was so perfect, so at one with everything, and here was the proof that he was _so_ not, that he lost control sometimes too.

She used her feet to grasp onto her wand that lay on the bedside table and transferred it into her hand. She pointed it between her legs.

"What are you doing?" asked Draco sleepily.

"_Tergio_. _Atocium_. Cleaning up the mess and casting a contraceptive charm." she replied with a happy sigh. It felt nice to be clean again.

"Oh." he laughed, "Shit, I forgot about that."

He rolled onto his side and threw an arm over her affectionately.

If she was honest with herself, Hermione did feel mildly disappointed about the whole thing. There had been no release for _her_ and the fact that she couldn't do much about it made her feel like a petulant child on the verge of a tantrum. Draco looked to be just about falling asleep whereas Hermione's legs were still rubbing together agitatedly, trying to ease any lingering arousal she had. She wanted to hit him.

She looked at him and Draco slowly opened his eyes and gave her one of those post-coital, dewy eyed grins that Ron used to flash her after their rolls in the grass at the Burrow. Hermione knew that grin and there were only two appropriate responses. Either she would return the smile with her own dopy grin _or_ she could flash him one of those quick, passive aggressive smiles that was designed purely to communicate to him just how much she loathed him in that moment. It was the later that Hermione chose.

"Are you alright?" he asked after seeing her frustrated smile.

"Yes. Fine. Just a little… unfulfilled." she responded tightly.

He looked confused for a moment before he said, "Oh!" and blushed.

Hermione nodded seriously.

Draco got up onto his elbow, leaning over her slightly, "I could help with that, if you like."

"In what way?" she asked, thinking that perhaps she might have to go a lie on her bathroom floor for a bit just to cool herself off.

"I could use my fingers or… or my tongue." he said and Hermione could hear a touch of excitement underneath his polite inquiry.

"Really?" she balked slightly. Ron had only gone down on her once but it had been so uncomfortable in the grass and they were so scared of getting caught that they'd stopped fairly quickly and hadn't ever tried again. She didn't know how she felt about the idea with Draco.

"Yeah." he responded, nodding happily, but Hermione wasn't paying attention.

There was a large part of her that needed to be comfortable with making herself vulnerable in order to let Draco do what he was suggesting. Of course, being comfortable with vulnerability wasn't really Hermione's wheelhouse. Vulnerability had always seemed like a bad thing to her.

But, with Draco down _there_, with his face between her thighs, vulnerable was exactly where she'd be. Far more so than when they'd had sex. For some reason, this felt more intrusive.

Hermione jumped as Draco moved suddenly to establish himself between her legs.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, half laughing.

"You took far too long to answer."

"Answer what?!" she hadn't even heard him ask a question.

"I asked whether or not you wanted to try it. Then I took your silence as encouragement." he said with a shrug and hooked his hands behind her knees, lifting her legs up. He lowered his head.

Hermione was given no more opportunity to fight him. She seized the back of his head, her hands tangling in his thin hair as his mouth covered her clit and she felt the hot wetness of his tongue flicking across the almost raw flesh. It soothed the soreness caused by their earlier interaction and sent convulsions all through her thighs. She didn't know what to make of it. The sensation was both a little repulsive but also the most amazing thing she'd ever felt in her life. It was easy to be vulnerable when Draco was making her feel like this, when he was causing all thought to fly from her mind. It was an odd feeling as Hermione's head was constantly chattering and now it was silent. All she could focus on was his tongue.

Again, he cultivated no particular skill or expertise in this area, and was just simply exploring his options happily. Understandably, Hermione came to a point where this was no longer acceptable, she was thoroughly sick of being teased. And so, kindly but firmly, she began to direct him.

"Move up just a little… Mmm… Ok. Yep… No, you need to just focus on the area. Stay there… Oh god, whatever you just did with your tongue, keep doing it! … Fuck. That's perfect. Don't stop…" this continued for a time and Hermione found Draco to be an attentive student. He followed every direction she gave him perfectly and his enthusiasm did anything but wane as the time passed.

After almost half an hour, Hermione was beginning to feel her own build up. It crept up on her, catching her totally unawares. She'd been so focused on Draco and his tongue that it hadn't occurred to her that what he was doing was actually beginning to work.

Her whole body went very still and she became very quiet; just like Draco's, her body felt tight like a bowstring.

Suddenly, he stopped, clearly confused at the abrupt halt of her moaning. "Are you ok? Am I not doing something right?"

Hermione snapped her head up to glare at him and grabbed the back of his head, pushing his face forwards again. "_Don't stop_!"

He seemed to realize just what was happening then and ate her with a previously unexplored air of ferocity. Suddenly, he was licking things she didn't even know she had, licking fire up her spine.

Hermione finally let out a loud cry, her back arched.

Goosebumps rose on her flesh like countless exquisite pinpricks. They raced up her arms, an offending army, and rushed across her back, making her shiver from the very base of her spine up to the apex of her skull.

She hung on the blade of a knife, teetering one way and then the other but never quite losing her balance entirely. It was in that pristine moment that she felt as if she was both drawing in all surrounding energy but also exuding it, pushing from herself in one catastrophic wave.

Every muscle was taught and strained. They convulsed, fighting her but also pushing her lovingly over to one side of the knife.

Her knees clamped over Draco's head.

She felt totally at one with herself, totally Zen, totally connected. She could see everything about her own personality, her own character, in perfect clarity. She was good and evil, strong and weak, selfish and selfless, a whole myriad of juxtapositions. She loved everything around her so serenely, from the stained wooden floor, to Draco, to her dirty clothes basket, to the single long, lonely hair that lay on the pillow beside her head. But strangely, for all these things she had what felt like a fierce hatred too.

It was confusing and overwhelming. Everything she looked at, everything she thought brought from her such intricate rolls of emotions that she hardly knew in which totally black and white space they fell in. It was all sitting, nuzzled and tiny in the grey space between.

Hermione felt all of this in the space of a few seconds before she tumbled out of the peak of her orgasm into a sort of dopy happiness. Her legs unclamped from around Draco's neck and he crawled up the bed to collapse beside her, wiping his mouth as he went. She noticed that he was hard again and without any real conscious thought, she lifted herself to straddle his hips.

"What are you doing?" he asked, shocked.

She ignored him, her hand moving down between her legs to lift his cock so that she might lower herself onto it. She smiled as it brushed past her opening. It felt so much better now that she was in control and through her post orgasm haze; she wasn't quite feeling the pain she knew was there as she pushed herself slowly down over Draco's cock.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes as her hips instinctively rolled over his.

She didn't know what it was causing it but this was the best feeling in the world. She knew she wasn't going to come again but whatever she was doing still felt amazing. It was as if the insides of her body were still all tense and uncomfortable and she was using Draco's cock to massage them, to relax them.

When she finally did open her eyes it was to see Draco looking even more pleased than she was. His fingertips dug into the flesh of her backside and he wore an expression that was a mixture between agony and ecstasy.

After a little while, Hermione's post orgasm haze began to wane and her hips stopped rolling with so much enthusiasm. Draco apparently noticed this as, suddenly, he pulled her down to press against his chest and rolled them sideways so that he was on top of her, his cock still inside her. Hermione giggled, enjoying these occasional shows of domination he was prone to.

He looked at her seriously, "If this hurts, tell me to stop ok?"

She nodded, feeling a little fearful of what he was going to do.

It began slowly at first, nothing more than what they'd already done but that did not last long. He began to thrust into her with more and more force until Hermione felt sure that her thighs would be bruised from his hips bones repeatedly slamming into them. It did hurt, a lot, but at no point did she tell him to stop. There were so many lovely things happening to her body aside from the hurt that it felt wrong to focus on that one thing.

Draco lifted himself up so that her legs were no longer wrapped around him and his body was at a right angle to hers. She liked this as it allowed her to look at him, to watch as he lost all control.

Just like last time, she knew it was coming before it happened. Draco's body tensed, his taught muscles made him look like he was carved from marble and the veins in his neck stood out under his skin. One of his hands rested on her knee, squeezing it tightly as he came, and she knew that, come the following day, she'd have another bruise there too. But she didn't care, she couldn't care about any of the pain she was feeling, no when he looked so beautiful. He was like a warrior, like a god when he looked like this. She _wanted _to worship him.

She would happily spend the rest of her life having sex with Draco if only to see him like that again and again, every day and every night.

He cried out as the wetness spilled onto her thighs again and then slumped forward over her body, propped up with one arm. His other hand lingered over his heart. Hermione pressed her palm to his chest too, to feel what he was feeling. His heart thudded violently under his skin, so intensely that she was almost worried for his health.

Again, he collapsed down next to her but this time, when he grinned at her, she grinned lazily back. They lay for a moment, both panting.

Hermione raised her hand after a while, "Just because we're awesome." she said.

Draco laughed and high fived her, "I'm not going to disagree with that."

* * *

A/N Sorry I have to do this... AHAHAHAHAHAHAH! YES! FUCKING FINALLY! You have NO idea how long I have been waiting for write that chapter! Fucking one hundred and forty two thousand words in! HUZZAH!  
Feels good. Feels very good.  
I need a cigarette now.

Tom Felton me up - Enable private messages on your account so I can respond to your reviews! Lol xx


	30. Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

SWAN DIVE

_"They can call me crazy if I fail, all the chance that I need is one-in-a-million. And they can call me brilliant if I succeed, gravity is nothing to me, moving at the speed of sound. I'm just going to get my feet wet until I drown."_

Hermione's hand shook as she grasped the quill.

_Saturday, January 18__th__, 1999._

She wanted to remember the date, didn't ever want it to fall away from her memory. She wanted to remember every moment, every sensation that Draco had pulled from her. She seized the tiny glass phial she'd conjured and her wand found her temple. She concentrated, drawing the thin blue and white strand from her head. It fell gracefully into the tiny vessel.

Hermione stuck the piece of parchment that bore the words _January 18__th__, 1999 _onto the side of the phial and pressed the bottle into the lining of her beaded bag where it would remain, always.

Afterwards, she stood and tiptoed, naked, through her dark and quiet living room and into her bedroom where Draco lay sleeping. She got into bed with him, pressed herself up against his chest and drifted away instantly, feeling a kind of happiness she'd given up on a long time ago.

* * *

Hermione awoke on Monday morning feeling disorientated and dazed. She could hear clattering in the kitchen and rolled over to find that she was alone in bed. Draco must have risen before her. She was vaguely familiar with the sensation now, that confused and overwhelmed feeling she got. The sense of unreality had made its presence known on Sunday morning too. It was as if her mind just couldn't grasp onto what her life was doing around her, like she couldn't comprehend it. It was odd to feel so good.

She pulled herself out of bed, heartily wishing she could remain there, and entered the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Judging by Draco's lazy grin when she joined him in the kitchen minutes later, he felt the same way as her. Their whole weekend had been almost too good to be true. The jovial night with the _tovarasi_, the sexual encounter they'd shared afterwards, and not to mention the sexual encounters they'd continued to have all of Sunday. She might not be able to say she was completely rested and together but the least she could say was that she was thoroughly sated. He was a willing and enthusiastic student.

"Hey." she said, coming up behind Draco and resting her head between his shoulder blades as he prepared tea, closing her eyes. Even though they'd shared a bed only minutes earlier, it still felt like too long without his scent fogging up her brain. She breathed deeply.

"Hi. Ready to go back today?" he asked conversationally, his voice husky from sleep.

Hermione groaned. "Do I have to?"

He laughed, "It won't be _that_ bad. Aren't you supposed to love school? Isn't that your thing?"

She swatted his arm. "Shut up! I do, but I love being here with you more." she responded with an uncharacteristically sentimental air.

He raised his eyebrows at her as he handed her a steaming mug of tea. The look told her that he was just as taken aback as her by her sappiness. She really had no idea where it was coming from either and so chose to ignore it. The two of them had spent far too long being exactly the opposite and trying to uphold that cold distance all the time was exhausting.

Hermione wandered back into the lounge room and collapsed onto the couch with a huff. Her tea sat nuzzled in her hands and she sighed into its warmth. She allowed herself a few minutes to sit with her legs curled under her and her eyes closed, trying to pretend that she wasn't falling back to sleep before she forced herself to get up again and have a shower.

In the bathroom, she stared into the mirror at herself for a few moments while the water heated up.

Her hair was brutally short, the longest parts only two or so inches in length, sticking up in odd sorts of peaks and angles. Of course, over the last two weeks it had lost that weird just-been-cut look but she still hated it. It had been alright when she was at home and she didn't have to see anyone much, she could cope with that, but the idea of going back to Hogwarts while she looked like that made her stomach churn. She'd never considered herself an overly pretty girl but her hair had always been her one vanity and she'd loved it. Losing it was like losing an old friend.

She tried running her hands through it a few times, trying to make it sit better but to no effect. It still looked like it had been hacked off by a mad man.

As she stepped into the shower, Hermione heard a knock on her front door but ignored it, figuring Draco could deal with whoever it was.

She realised as she began to wash herself, that everything with Harry was beginning to feel like something that had happened a long time ago. It was like a distant memory. The Aurors were still looking for him and they still stood guard outside of Flourish and Blotts but no one had heard anything. Hermione knew this should have made her nervous and she was naturally sick with worry about her former friend, but she secretly felt glad that it was all out of her hands, that she didn't have to worry about it. She felt obligated to go out and find him, to stop him hurting anyone else, or hurting himself but if she was honestly with herself, she didn't have the energy. And deep down, she didn't want to leave behind what she'd spent the past six months building. For once, she felt sort of normal. She had a boyfriend and a nice flat and a group of friends… If she squinted a little and pretended that everything that had happened in the past, the war and Harry's madness, were just figments of a bad movie she'd seen, she could almost think her life was just perfect. And sometimes it felt that way.

After a longer shower than necessary, Hermione toweled herself off and had her brush in her hand, ready to tangled out the knots of her stubborn curls when she realised she didn't need to do that anymore. Instead she did her best to muss up her short hair in an effort to make it look stylishly disheveled. It didn't work.

She dressed herself quickly in her Hogwarts robes, feeling increasingly insecure, before entering the lounge room to find Isobel and Draco sitting on the couch, sharing tea. Isobel looked radiant and Hermione was struck with a pang of jealousy as she watched the other girl's shining golden mane flowing like warm honey over her shoulders. She also found herself wondering, again, with an intense curiosity over who her friend's mystery person was. Whoever they were, they appeared to be making Isobel very happy and Hermione hoped that, one day, she'd have the opportunity to thank them for it.

"Hey Hermione!" said Isobel, far too brightly for that time of morning.

"Hi…" Hermione responded somewhat glumly.

"What's wrong?" asked her friend, concerned.

Hermione lifted her arms to show her school robes and looked down at herself, "I look like a prepubescent boy."

Draco snorted, "Yeah you do. But it's ok. I'm into it."

"Draco!" Isobel cried, laughing and swatting his arm.

"What?! I can't help that I find him, I mean, _her _attractive! Can't fight chemistry…" he sipped his tea casually while Isobel and Hermione laughed.

"I can see why you're feeling insecure living with this…" Draco raised his eyebrows at her, "_Charming_ young man." Isobel laughed. After downing the remainder of her tea, she stood up and walked over to Hermione. "It's alright anyway. I've actually come to help with that."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione suspiciously as Isobel pulled out her wand.

"I've been doing some reading. I think I can fix your hair."

"Really?! Can you grow it back?!" Hermione said hopefully.

Isobel shook her head, smiling sympathetically. "No, I'm sorry. But I can make it look a little more… Stylish. Come with me."

Hermione followed her friend into the bedroom, closing the door so that she might be able to talk to Isobel in private. She'd been hoping to corner the girl at some point during the course of the day but it now seemed that she would be spared the stress. She sat down on the bed and the Isobel knelt behind her.

"So, been on any holidays recently?" asked Isobel in a cockney accent. Hermione laughed.

"No, but I have something to tell you." she took a deep breath, turning around to face her friend and whispered, "Draco and I had sex."

"WHAT!?" Isobel shrieked, "Oh my god! When?!"

Hermione giggled and gestured wildly for Isobel to keep her voice down, "Shh! On Saturday night… And again on Sunday morning. And Sunday afternoon. And Sunday night… Oh and at one o'clock this morning." she whispered, unable to stop herself smiling wickedly.

Isobel stared off into the distance and sighed, smiling wistfully, "Ah… I remember my first time… Pressed up into a rose bush. He was so small I barely felt it. I hope your first time was a little better! And perhaps a little more appealingly sized… Anyway. Was it good?"

"Yes and no. It hurt but… It was still… Fucking awesome." The last words came out in a reflective huff before her eyes snapped back to Isobel once she'd realised what her friend had said. "Wait, you're not a virgin?"

Isobel raised her eyebrows and grinned, "Hermione, have you met me?"

Hermione laughed, "I should have known… When did you do it? And with whom?"

"When I was fifteen. With Theo Nott after the Yule Ball."

"Oh." Hermione knew him to be in Azkaban and felt instantly guilty for making her friend talk about it, "Sorry."

Isobel shrugged and turned Hermione around again so that she could fix her hair. "It's alright. He was a dickhead but it wasn't all that bad really. He could be nice when he wanted to get in your pants. Most purebloods are like that. All suave and winning in the bedroom, sadistic murderers outside it! Now let me concentrate for a sec…"

Hermione obeyed and remained silent as Isobel began whispering incantations and the roots of her hair started to tingle pleasantly.

Isobel was another one that surprised Hermione every time she talked about having some sort of life before they'd become friends. For some reason, she always found it hard to picture any of the Slytherins as being normal teenagers before the war started but when she thought about it she supposed that they must have gone through much the same things as she had. They must have fought with their parents about silly things and had crushes on their classmates and played truth or dare in their dormitories at night. Just because they were on the opposite side of the war to her did not exempt them from being human.

After a few minutes spent with Isobel hovering over her, waving her wands and occasionally standing back to admire her handiwork with a critical eye, she pronounced Hermione finished and directed her to the bathroom so that she could see the effect.

Hermione leapt off the bed and raced into the bathroom eagerly.

She felt herself blushing the moment she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was still short but Isobel had evened it all out and the result was quite pretty. She still missed her long hair but the style her friend had ordered it into made her look sort of graceful, feminine and a little bit dangerous. It was sexy and made her want to wear red lipstick. And never once in her life had she felt properly sexy. It was a strange sensation.

"Thank you! Oh, I love it!" she said, a trace of awe in her voice. "I feel like I should be doing cabaret." she giggled, turning this way and that so as to view her new style from every angle.

Eventually, Hermione dragged her eyes away from her reflection. She turned around and hugged Isobel, trying to pour all of her gratitude and love for the girl into the hug.

"That's ok. Consider it an act of charity, because you really did look like a prepubescent boy." said Isobel, chuckling.

Hermione laughed and raced into the lounge room to show Draco. He looked at her for a long time, his eye brows raised in shock before he pronounced it acceptable and told her it made her look like a 'vixen'.

She pulled on her cloak and scarf while the others did the same and the three of them left the flat to go to Hogwarts for breakfast with the rest of the _tovarasi_.

All the way into school, Hermione could not stop herself grinning.

* * *

The week passed relatively drama free. Of course, Hermione had gotten many confused glances from her fellow students, curious about her change of look and her three week long absence but with the _tovarasi_ and Teodora's ongoing love and support, she was less affected by it than she thought she'd be. It felt nice to laugh in class again, to study in the library while having whispered conversations with her friends, to eat together in the great hall and watch the boys flicks bit of food at each other across the table. It was almost like how it used to be, but now she had more people around her, more people to love. Sometimes, it almost felt better than before.

The only thing that weighed on her mind, that had crept into her headspace the previous week and just did not seem to want to fall away, was whether or not she was going to tell Draco about his father. She'd been thinking about it for a while and though she tried to ignore it, she couldn't avoid the fact that she was the only person with the information that Draco desperately wanted. And it had been over three weeks since Harry had told her the truth. Granted she'd been kidnapped for four days and catatonic for another seven but since she'd gone back to Hogwarts, she'd begun to feel she was running out of excuses. He deserved to know and there didn't seem to be any way around her telling him.

All through that week, she thought about how best to broach the subject with him but she couldn't envision a situation wherein the results would be any more favourable than any other. She'd never been good at that sort of thing and when dealing with delicate subjects, tact was not one of her strong suits. She couldn't begin to imagine how he might react and found herself scared by the possibilities. What if he got angry? What if he broke down? What if he didn't believe her? Hermione didn't know if she was equipped to deal with any of that. Unfortunately none of her anxieties exempt her from the responsibility of telling him.

In the end, Hermione trusted that she would know when the right time would arise and left it at that.

On Friday evening, her and Draco shared dinner with the _tovarasi _at Hogwarts before returning to her flat together. They held hands as they wandered down Diagon Alley, the street lamps lighting their way. People stared but Hermione did not care.

Once inside Draco made tea, as he always did when they got home from school and the two of them sat down on the couch.

"Not sure what I think about this new assignment Teodora's given us." he was saying as he rummaged through his school bag to retrieve a quill and roll of parchment so that he could begin his transfiguration essay, "I mean… It seems a bit much, don't you think?"

"Well, she only told us to think about it. It didn't sound like it was definite…" said Hermione vaguely as she fetched her own essay from her bag.

"Yeah, but still… I mean, I can understand where she's coming from really. It's just the same old line of facing our demons and all that, isn't it? But I don't want you guys to have to come to Malfoy manor and I don't really feel like paying a visit to the Weasleys." Hermione shot him a scathing look and he rolled his eyes, "Not like that. I know it would be painful for you, that's all. And I can tell Ginny didn't like the idea."

"Yeah, well, she doesn't talk about it much but things aren't really great at the Burrow. Her mum wasn't quite right after the war and I don't think she'd like everyone to see the damage to her family first hand…" said Hermione with a sigh. The glazed look she remembered seeing in Mrs Weasley's eyes still haunted her sometimes.

"And I can tell you, Blaise _hates _his mother."

"Really?" said Hermione, surprised. She was so used to purebloods being coddled by their families, she couldn't imagine them hating any of their parents. Even Draco had a sort of twisted respect for _his _father.

"Oh yeah." he responded, nodding, "I think he blames her for his stance during the war. And she's not really the nicest of women."

"Have you met her?" Hermione asked.

"A couple of times. She used to come to the manor to see my mother. I could tell they didn't really like one another but, you know… All in the name of good appearances." he replied, his tone somewhat bitter.

Hermione sighed and shrugged. "Honestly, I don't think any of us really fancy returning to our family homes." she said, thinking of what it would be like to visit her parent's home in Cotswolds with the _tovarasi_. The idea made her feel sick in the stomach.

They worked in silence for a little while, quills scratching in the quiet room. Hermione was beginning to find it increasingly harder and harder to concentrate as the minutes passed.

After a while, Draco put down his quill and stretched. "Do you want me to put a record on?" he asked.

"Sure." Hermione responded but she wasn't really listening. She could feel the words sitting on the tip of her tongue, begging to be said. It felt like the right time. She wanted to tell Draco the truth but as soon as she felt resolved to do it, she looked at him and found herself overcome with anxiety. It wasn't that he looked happy, it was that he was relaxed, comfortable. And she desperately did not want to take that away from him.

He stood and made his way over to the record player, beginning to leaf through her collection. "What do you think?" he asked, totally unaware of her feelings. "Vivaldi or Nirvana? I can't decide what mood I'm…"

"Draco?" Hermione cut him off. It may not have been the best time, and she may be feeling uncomfortable doing it but to keep it from him any longer would have been disloyal. If she was honest with herself, she might have chosen that moment simply because she wanted to get the weight of the information she held off her chest, wanted to get it over with.

"Mmm?" he responded, still looking between the two records in his hands.

"I… I have to tell you something." she said, shifting uncomfortably.

He put down the records and looked at her, clearly concerned.

Hermione took a deep, steadying breath and pushed her hands under her legs so they would not shake. "Before Harry did what he did, we talked for a bit. And… He told me a few things. About your mother."

Draco's demeanor changed instantly. His hands balled into fists and his body tensed. "What about her?" he asked far too calmly, his face pale.

"He told me who gave the anonymous testimony." she said quietly.

"I'll fucking kill him." Draco snarled, obviously drawing the wrong conclusion.

Hermione threw up her hands in supplication and said urgently, "No! No, it wasn't him! He said… Well apparently the Wizengamot contacted him in the hopes that he would back the testimony given by… by this person. But he said no." she took a deep breath, "They told him that it was… that it was Lucius. Lucius gave the testimony in one last attempt to keep himself out of Azkaban."

For a moment, Draco did not react at all and simply stared at her, his mouth hanging open a little. Then, it morphed into a mask of hatred. He visibly recoiled from her and backed away. "You're lying!"

"What?! No!" said Hermione, shocked.

"Why would you say that?! Why would you tell me?!" he shouted, his voice cracking. She could see the hurt and confusion in his eyes. It made her heart clench painfully.

"Because you deserved to know!" she cried, jumping to her feet and walking towards him, her hands held out, pleading.

"You're just trying to protect Potter, aren't you?!"

"No! Draco! How could you think I would do something like that?!" her voice was thickening with suppressed anger as she tried to grasp his hands in hers.

He threw her off, pushing her away from him so that she stumbled backwards, "Don't touch me!"

"Draco, please! Just listen to me!" she shouted, anger finally getting the better of her, stung that he'd pushed her away, that he could look at her like that. How could he be saying those things? Accusing her like that? Didn't he know her at all? "I'm not lying! I know this is hard to hear but…"

He cut her off. "Don't you dare try and counsel me! Don't you fucking dare!"

"I am _not _trying to counsel you, Draco! I'm trying to help!"

"_Help_?! I don't want your help!What does this look like to you?! You think you can understand this?!" he snarled, and swiped at the tears that had begun falling down his cheeks with his sleeve.

"No! I don't think I can understand it! I'm not trying to pretend I fucking understand it! But you and I both know that your father is capable of doing something like this! So don't blame me just because you can't handle the truth, Draco!" she yelled, pointing her finger in his face.

"What the fuck would you know about my father, Granger?!" he bit back, pushing his chest into her finger.

"I know that he would rather cow at the feet of a madman than be there for his family! I know that he _gave you_ _up_ to that madman like you were his to sell! I know that he tortured and killed people and did his very best to teach you to do the same! I know that Lucius Malfoy is a vile, evil human being who deserves the sentence that he got, doubly so because he threw his own wife under the bus just to keep himself from having to pay for his crimes!" she shouted, her voice grating against her throat. With almost every word she jabbed Draco in the chest with her finger again.

He threw his arms up over his ears and shook his head violently, "Shut up! Just shut up!"

"No, Malfoy! I will not!" she yelled, "You don't get to blame me for any of this! Do you understand?! I am not your scapegoat! Do you remember what Harry said to Voldemort right at the end? Remember? _Try for some remorse, Tom_. Well he never did, and he died, didn't he?! Your father didn't show remorse either and he _never will_! _That's_ why he's in Azkaban and _that's _why he deserves to be there!Remorse is what makes us human! Your father may not have acted like he loved you, but I do! And I won't let you push me away!"

The room rung with silence when she finished shouting, her last words almost visibly hanging in the air between them. The space felt strangely empty without both their voices clattering off the walls jarringly. Draco slowly moved his arms away from his head and looked at Hermione with what seemed at first to be unadulterated shock. But there was something else in the look. Desperation, hope and pain. She couldn't understand it.

"You love me?" he said quietly.

Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth, realizing then what she had said. Draco grasped her shoulders and shook her violently.

"You love me?!" he shouted, a manic, desperate look on his face.

"Draco, you're hurting me!" she cried, panicking a little at his use of force.

"DO YOU LOVE ME?!" he insisted urgently, his voice gratingly loud in her ears.

"Alright! Yes!" she yelled, trying to push him away.

"Say it!" he demanded, his fingers digging into her skin painfully. "Say it, Hermione!"

Hermione yanked herself out of his grip and stepped away from him, breathing hard. He stared at her, his eyes pleading, the tears now pouring freely down his face.

"Please." he begged.

Could she say it? Could she say those three words to Draco Malfoy? This little boy in front of her, broken, all his jagged pieces sticking into her skin, into her life. Was it worth it? After everything he'd said to her, all of those horrible, horrible things… But then what about the things he'd _done_? Saving her that day she forgot to take the _Rusine_? Pulling her from the lake? She realised then that exactly what he'd told her so long ago was true. What Teodora had said was true. Back then, she'd been the one to be claiming that she was a good person, but Draco had been _showing _it. And ever since, he'd been showing her that he loved her. Now, he needed her to show that she loved him too. He needed to hear her say it. And, she realised, _she_ need to hear her say it too…

"I love you."

And there it was. One word. One breath.

His hand moved to press over his heart as a wretched sob was wrenched from his mouth. He staggered sideways and leant heavily against the wall. Hermione watched as he pressed his face against the plaster as if he was trying to hide from her, his hand splayed on the wall. His face was cracked, crumpled in pain. He slowly sank down to the floor, his sobs becoming increasingly louder until she really thought he couldn't breathe. He was gasping and choking like he was drowning but the expression on his face was that of a man on fire.

She moved towards him slowly, in awe of what she was witnessing. She'd seen people like this, she'd even been there herself. She saw broken people all the time, all around her. But not broken like Draco was then. She had no idea he was hurting so much before that moment.

Hermione sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He pushed off the wall and leant into her chest where his tears soaked her shirt and his hand clutched onto her leg like a lifeline. She ran her hand over his hair soothingly.

"Shh. It's alright." she whispered, "You are beautiful and kind and clever and you will be ok. You are beautiful and kind and clever and you will be ok."

He cried for a long time into her chest and all the while Hermione did not move. She knew that it was years of hurt and abandonment and anguish that was doing this to him, that was coming out of him. She wouldn't try and stop it but she would be there for him while he wept. She would show him she loved him.

They sat together on the floor, intertwined, as she repeated the affirmation to him over and over again in a soft voice, always stroking his hair. She meant every single word. He was more beautiful than her words could express even like this, even crying and gasping and choking. He was kinder than anyone she'd ever met and it was all the more meaningful because he hadn't been taught that kindness, he'd grown into it. He was far more intelligent than he gave himself credit for and almost too intelligent for his own good. And finally, of all the people she knew who were broken, she was sure that Draco _would_ be ok. He'd make it. Because he was stronger than even the strongest of them.

All of this, Hermione knew beyond a shadow of a doubt and felt deep in her heart.

After some time, she became aware of something that made her soul kneel down inside her mind. That made her give in totally to her love for the man crying in her arms. The whole time she had been comforting Draco, telling him that he was worth something, that he was vital to her, she had been crying too.

She had been crying too.


	31. Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

GOOD, BAD, UGLY

_"Sometimes the beauty is easy, sometimes you don't have to try at all. Sometimes you can hear the wind blow in a handshake, sometimes there's poetry written right on the bathroom wall."_

After that night, Hermione felt as if she was growing closer to Draco with every passing minute. Something special had passed between them when he'd allowed himself to be so vulnerable in front of her. There was something so sacrosanct about having someone's trust. Hermione felt both buoyed and frightened by it, like it was a precious object entrusted to her to keep safe. She was flattered by the gesture but scared that she would damage it or destroy it and cause more pain.

Days dragged into weeks and weeks dragged into months. Her love for him bloomed like a light out of the darkness, intensifying with every minute, every hour. She needed him around her, needed his presence. He was like a lifeline and she hated to be apart from him. Time passed like it always had, some moments were fleeting and some days dragged on endlessly. But through all of it, she and Draco were together.

By mid February, he was living with her, having officially pulled out of his residency at Hogwarts and moved all of his things into her flat. Hermione had made space for him in her wardrobe. On the whole, it had been a fairly easy and stress free decision. They had figured that as he was in her home most of the time, and sharing her bed every night, they may as well stop pretending and tell Graham, her landlord, that there was someone else sharing her space. The old man had seemed overjoyed and enthusiastic about her new found source of happiness and regularly offered Draco a cup of tea whenever he passed through the shop. The two of them formed a friendship and Hermione's heart was warmed by the fact that not everyone was judgmental of Draco's past and accepted him for the intelligent and entertaining individual that he was.

The two of them went to class together, ate lunch together and slept together. At first, Hermione felt anything but crowded. Having Draco around her all the time was almost like having another part of herself to talk to. They walked through the halls of Hogwarts like it was their territory, sometimes they held hands, sometimes they did not. The rest of the school had learned to become accustomed to it. Though, Hermione got the feeling sometimes that Draco might have been dealing with an undertone of mutiny from the more fanatical of the purebloods in the school but he was never outwardly bothered by it so she did not let it stress her.

The rest of the _tovarasi_ continued to treat their relationship as an ongoing source of amusement and took great pleasure in quoting Draco and Hermione's earlier remarks to each other from before they'd become friends. Even Teodora stirred the two of them occasionally but they were so totally happy with each other that they let none of it go to heart. School was becoming fun again, something Hermione looked forward to that wasn't a chore. Her classes were pleasurable again, and stimulating, and she had her friends. She had the _tovarasi_ around her and Teodora's motherly, caring support. She was glad that their teacher had not pushed for the class trip to all of their family homes though. She might have reached a sort of easy happiness, but she was certainly not ready for a trauma like that.

Over time, Hermione began to suspect that love was definitely in the air. Padma and Eli were almost sickening in their sweetness with each other; Isobel spent all her time mooning around and refusing to tell anyone about her secret boyfriend; and Luna had gotten back into contact with Dean and had apparently been on several dates with him. The only two members who weren't dabbling in codependency were Susan and Juliet who both seemed to be quite happy watching everyone else act like fools in love.

But the one coupling that got more laughter than her own was Ginny and Blaise who couldn't seem to keep their hands off one another.

Hermione, though, remained concerned about Ginny's new found source of distraction. For all she could see, the younger girl and Blaise rarely talked. It was more of a physical relationship. And for all their intimacy, Ginny still tensed up at the mere mention of Harry. Hermione could tell that her young friend was far from over the wayward wizard and continued to feel concerned for Blaise and his possible emotional investments. Draco had tried talking to him but Blaise had only reacted with a friendly but firm rebuttal, telling Draco to keep his pointed face out of other people's business. After that, she tried to let it go, she really did. What Ginny did with her sex life was not Hermione's business and she felt she should have been able to just allow her friend to do whatever made her feel better, but this was all easier said than done. It bothered her, what Ginny was doing and she couldn't understand why. Every time she saw Ginny and Blaise together, all she could feel was frustration and bitterness. How could Ginny not see what she was doing? What she might be putting Blaise through? The girl was in denial and it rankled her that Ginny could not see it.

For a time, Hermione wandered through her life with barely concealed awe. She couldn't believe how perfect it had become, how easy. She was laughing more and connecting more than she had when she arrived at Hogwarts six months previously. It was like all her fear had dissipated. She couldn't remember what it felt like to be scared of something. She thought of the war now with a sort of bittersweet sadness. It wasn't despair any more or wretchedness. She looked at with an air of brave, wounded, melancholy. But it was no longer damaging. It no longer stopped her living.

Of course, there were still hard parts. Like the fact that Harry had not been seen or heard from in months though the Aurors continued to pursue him and continued to stand guard outside her flat. Or that Watson still came around every now and then to see Draco which made Hermione's blood boil. Or that, sometimes, Hermione and Draco would have the most incredible rows which would leave them both exhausted and numb. She found him becoming increasingly touchier about his father since she'd told him about what had happened and most of their fights became about Lucius. Despite their growing openness around many things, Draco was seizing up when it came to the more traumatic experiences of his past and sometimes, Hermione thought that maybe he still didn't believe her.

But aside from those hard, restless nights spent sleeping on opposite sides of the bed, Hermione was happy most of the time, and much of the credit for that was owed to Draco. When they weren't fighting, he brought out the good in her, made her laugh. But more than anything, they talked. All the time. To the point that Hermione felt sometimes as if her voice would disappear from overuse and found herself surprised when she still had things to say to him. It was incomprehensible that there were still conversations to be had between them when they had already covered so much.

Hermione found herself surprised that she could have found more of herself to give him, surprised that they were even capable of being _more_ intimate with each other. But she always found new things to say, new questions to ask him.

Those were the times that they told each other about their lives, about who they had been before they became friends. Hermione told him about her grandparents, and how they were the most racist, bigoted, loudmouthed people she had ever come across but she still loved them. She told him about how she'd had little sister once but she'd died at only seven months old when Hermione was ten, just before she'd gone to Hogwarts. She told him about her school years, before she'd joined the wizarding world, about how her mother had tried to force her to learn the guitar but it never stuck. She even talked with him a great deal about her friendship with Harry and Ron and the things they'd done together.

Draco was almost as open with her about his own life though he steered away from the memories that she could see bothered him. His father never came up at all and if he did, it was only in passing. But, nonetheless, what he did share with her brought to light how little Hermione really knew of him and she could not stop herself asking question after question whenever the subject came up.

His early life had been filled with those death eaters that had not been apprehended when Voldemort had first fallen from power. The way he spoke about it allowed her to see how he'd seen these men as warriors, freedom fighters. He had both feared and revered them just like he did his father. It was odd hearing about death eaters in that light, about how Theodore Nott's father had taught both of the young boys how to ride a broom when Draco was eight; how Walden Macnair had given Draco 'the talk' when he was thirteen, stating that woman were 'like a cauldron cake on a hot day, unnecessary and only appealing for a short time'.

From what Hermione gathered, Draco was not so much brought up by his mother and father but by the death eaters as a collective. It appeared to have been the same for all of the other young boys. He talked about how it was expected that they would follow in their father's footsteps. Even when the fathers themselves believed Voldemort to be dead, they had still talked of branding their sons with the dark mark and making sure that they were raised believing in Voldemort's values. The girls, of course, were given a far less impressive insight into their future. Hermione was slightly appeased to see that the treatment of women in Voldemort's inner circle was the subject with which Draco spoke with the most venom. As far as she could make out, they were no more than pretty slaves and those who were not pretty were outcast and used, taught to heal and cook; in essence, taught women's duties that the death eaters thought beneath them. Only if their bloodlust reached unimaginable peaks, like Bellatrix's or Alecto Carrow's, were they branded with the mark.

All in all, Draco and Hermione found each other's lives endlessly fascinating and could sit, listening to each other speak for hours. It was amazing that they got anything done at all, that they even managed to sleep for the questions were relentless and the conversation never ended, not even when they _did _go to bed. They would only pick up straight where they left off the next morning.

Hermione liked feeling like someone was really interested in her, in her past, in who she was. It was different. It felt nice. And above all, she was happy that Draco was the one with whom she was sharing so much of herself, even if he wasn't given quite as much back. She felt, in the end, that he was the one who deserved it most.

But Draco offered her more than stimulating conversations. There were other things…

For a little while, the first few weeks after he had commandeered one of Hermione's drawers as a place to store his socks, it had seemed to her like all they had done was have sex. Time that they spent doing menial, pedestrian things like homework or socializing, had seemed like time wasted.

There wasn't an inch of their flat that had not had Hermione's bare ass pressed up against it at some point. She had actually begun feeling guilty during their now regular Saturday night dinners with the _tovarasi_ as she couldn't stop herself thinking about things like the fact that Draco had cum all over the very spot on the coffee table that Blaise had just set his drink down on.

It became difficult to imagine her life without sex in it. Now that the experience was not painful, she couldn't get enough of it. And Draco seemed to be of the same mind. All she had to do was look at him and he was hard within seconds and Hermione couldn't ever pass up the opportunity.

Draco had this way of touching her, this way of treating her, that made her feel alive.

This is what they'd moved into. It was no longer cute or innocent, full of awkwardness and shy smiles. They'd moved past that into unequivocal fucking. Hermione had taught Draco how to touch her and he'd done the same. It had taken time and work and no small amount of frustration, but this was the equilibrium they had achieved in their affections to each other.

Hermione felt like she couldn't possibly be any more happy than she was in those months.

But that had waned.

Hermione stayed on this turbulent high from the end of January all the way to the end of March before she began to slope slowly downward again, a realization that she resolutely ignored. If she was honestly with herself, she'd been heading that way for a while. She was becoming more manic, a little more withdrawn, less honest. But the thing that had instigated this dissension, in her opinion, was a certain seemingly innocuous conversation she'd had with Ginny.

The two of them had been behind on a potions assignment and had chosen to study in the library for a few hours one Saturday evening, planning to meet the rest of the _tovarasi _back at Hermione's flat when they were done for the usual get together.

Hermione was already feeling tired and drawn by the time their study session ended, having spent the day working tirelessly at Flourish and Blotts before scooting off to Hogwarts without so much as a ten minute break.

It was dark and cold when they were finally finished, their cloaks pulled tightly around their bodies to ward off the slight chill in the air as they descended the front steps of Hogwarts.

Hermione suddenly realised as they made their way back to her flat, that it might have been the first time Ginny and her had been alone together in a long time. They were usually surrounded by the rest of the group so, though their friendship was a lot stronger and more affectionate than it once had been, they rarely connected. Really, there was still too much history.

Because of all this, Hermione was overcome with a feeling of awkwardness as they walked from the Leaky Cauldron to her flat that night. She scrambled for something to say.

"So… uh… how are your parents?" she asked, flailing.

Ginny gave her a shocked look. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been put into their don't-go-there category a long time ago. Hermione knew even as she said it that it was very out of character for her to mention them.

"They're fine." Ginny answered slowly, "Mum's getting better by the sound of Dad's letters…"

"Oh! That's great!" Hermione knew she sounded far too enthusiastic to the point that the statement might be taken as fake even though she was genuinely happy at the news. Her nervousness increased tenfold. "And how's Ron?"

Ginny actually laughed at the ludicrousness of this question. Ron was even more of a no go that the younger girl's parents. "What are you on, Hermione?!"

Hermione chuckled uncomfortably and shrugged. "I'm sorry…"

"Do you really want to know?" asked Ginny carefully, after a moment.

Hermione thought about it for a second and realised that she did. She'd ignored the specter of Ron for too long. Hadn't she moved past their relationship? Wasn't she happy with Draco? That ought to mean that she should be ok about knowing what Ron was up to, if he was doing well. She should have reached the point where it wouldn't bother her. Shouldn't she?

"Yes. I want to know." she said decisively.

Ginny sighed, "Well, I don't know much. I haven't seen him since Christmas. But he seemed to be doing alright. He was a lot happier than before, seemed a little surer of himself, I guess."

To Hermione's consternation, this information stung a little. She was glad that Ron was happy but then she couldn't help feeling hurt that he was capable of being happy without her in his life. "Is he back at the Burrow now?" she asked, trying to keep the thickness from her voice.

"No, he's still travelling. He won't tell us where. I think he's just, I don't know, globetrotting or something."

Hermione nodded, getting the feeling that she'd heard enough.

After that, she did not bring up the subject of Ron again. It should have felt alright that she now knew that he was doing ok. That should have been all she needed.

Ron was gone, he'd moved on and she should be happy for him. She'd loved him for a long time, it would have hurt her far more to hear that he had gone through the same ordeal that she had, that he had struggled as much as her.

Or that's what she'd told herself.

Sadness had followed her around for a few days after her conversation with Ginny, even to the point that Draco had asked her if she was alright. She had been quick to reassure him, but had refrained from telling him what was really bothering her. She waited for the bad feeling to fade just like all bad feelings did those days.

But it did not.

It didn't fade, it only got worse. The dissension suddenly became fast and unstoppable, and she was clawing out around her, trying to catch a hold of something to slow her fall. She tried to hold onto Draco, tried to use him to float her back up but it didn't seem to be working anymore. He didn't make her feel better about herself like he once had.

She didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want to see anyone. She began to feel crowded by Draco's constant presence and because of this she became snappy and nagged him relentlessly. They fought more, slept on opposite sides of the bed more. The darkness was seeping back into her line of sight.

Hermione did not know what to do. She was desperate to pull herself out of the hole she'd dug. She tried studying, an age old habit to make her anxiousness disappear, but it didn't work. Even the prospect of their upcoming NEWTS did nothing to assuage her melancholia. She tried sex but that didn't work either. Draco couldn't make her come as easily as he once had and she'd gotten so tired of his disappointed face that she began faking it which made her hate herself even more.

The panic attacks came back, catching her totally unprepared as she sat in class or ate dinner or walked to school. She had herself convinced that people had begun to notice. There was a slight edge to the way her friends looked at her now; their eyes stared a little longer, like she was a glass statue, sitting precariously on the edge of a table. One small movement and she would tumble over the edge and shatter into a million pieces.

The nightmares came back, and Hermione found herself yet again reliving her worst memories every night until Draco woke her and she would shake and cry and try to catch a hold of her fleeing sanity.

But Hermione hated it far more when she _didn't _have nightmares. Those were the nights where she'd dream she was having sex with Draco, but then his face would morph into Ron's, then George's, then Harry's. She could handle the flashbacks to some degree, but those dreams were the worst, those dreams made her hate herself the most. She couldn't look at Draco in the eye after she'd had one, because each new face would pull from her some different emotion. When it was Draco, it was arousal; when it was George, it was shame; when it was Harry, it was fear; and when it was Ron… It was relief.

Hermione hated that relief. It felt like a monumental betrayal she had no idea what to make of. Was she missing him? Was she unhappy? Was she still in love with him?

But how could any of those things be? She'd been with Draco for almost three months at that point. And for the majority of that time she'd felt deliriously happy with him, far happier than she'd ever been with Ron.

She knew as it was happening that she was slowly closing Draco off, shutting him out. She hated it with a fierce passion but did not know how to stop it. Nothing was working anymore.

In April, the _tovarasi_ sat their newts and by then Hermione was so far gone that she just didn't care. She showed up, answered the questions, did the practical excersises and went home. It was almost like a normal day. She didn't care how she'd done, didn't care what her results would be.

The school year would end in a matter of weeks and she felt nothing. She was numb. She was cold.

* * *

It was four months to the day since Draco and Hermione's kiss on New Year's Eve when she woke up that sunny Monday morning and she just couldn't do it anymore.

It had been him shaking her that had made her rise out of sleep. It was always him, he always had to make her realise the truth in the moment and right then, she resented him for it.

He told her they were going to be late for school.

She told him she didn't care.

He asked her what she meant.

She told him she wasn't going that day. That she didn't feel well.

It was a testament to how their relationship had soured that he didn't stay with her. He looked concerned alright, told her that if she needed him to let him know, but he left all the same. Hermione was both hurt and grateful.

He didn't have the energy for her anymore, that much was plain. But then, she didn't have the energy for her either so she could hardly blame him.

She couldn't move. She couldn't get out of bed. And she didn't want him to be around to witness that. She wanted him out, to be away from her. She needed to be alone. But on the other hand, she wanted him to want to stay. That he didn't even ask, didn't offer, made her feel like he just didn't care anymore.

Hermione did not go back to sleep. She just lay in bed, staring out her bedroom window. She cried for a little while but it didn't seem to accomplish anything so she stopped. She didn't even really know what she was sad about, it was just this cancerous black fog that filled her headspace and infected everything she thought about. It had even leaked into the happy thoughts and memories she was trying to bring to mind in the hopes that she might draw from them the energy to get out of bed.

By midday, there was no change except that perhaps her mind had sunk even lower into the black fog. She had managed to drag herself to the bathroom and back but that had been the extent of her physical activity.

It was funny really, she wondered, that each new manifestation of mental illness could look so different, could feel so different. She thought she'd gone through it all but what she experienced that day and what she had been experiencing for almost a month was something totally foreign to her.

There had been the soul crushing yearning and pain that she'd felt over her break up with Ron. That was heart break. There was the incident with George that had made her want to vomit, made her want to crawl out of her own skin. That was shame. There was the aftermath of that, the self harm, the crushing worthlessness she'd felt. That was despair. There was the emptiness, the omnipresent sadness she'd experienced when she thought Isobel had died. That was grief. There was the quiet, lethargic numbness that had taken her over after what Harry had done. That was depression.

But this… She didn't know how to classify it. She felt all of it at once. The shame, the heartbreak, the despair, the worthlessness, the grief and the depression. But there was something else as well… Anger. Resignation. What did that make her? Sad? Suicidal? In need of a couple of months in the St Mungos Ward for the mentally ill?

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Hermione did not hesitate to drag herself to her feet. She knew her _tovarasi _well enough by then to realise that if she didn't answer it, they'd let themselves in anyway. She didn't want to be found in bed with her head resting on a severely tearstained pillow.

When she had slumped into the lounge room and opened the door, she was shocked beyond belief to find that it was not any member of the _tovarasi_, but the head of it. It was Teodora.

"May I come in?" asked the older woman politely.

Hermione nodded dumbly and stepped aside to let her pass.

Teodora rounded on Hermione the moment the door swung closed and said simply, "It is getting bad again, isn't it?"

Hermione could do nothing but nod again.

Teodora looked her up and down before she deposited her bag onto the coffee table and swept into the kitchen. "Sit down. I will make tea."

Hermione lowered herself onto the couch, her mind rushing from one thought to the next. She had been found out; her pain had been discovered again. She hated it. She wanted to be left alone.

But at the same time, what remained of the rational part of her mind told her that it was a good thing. She needed help if she wanted to come out of this… And she had this irrepressible feeling that if she didn't get help this time, she'd never come out of it again.

Teodora reappeared and sat down beside Hermione on the couch. Hermione took the proffered mug of tea and sipped it, more to be polite than anything else. Her stomach churned uncomfortably when the hot liquid hit it.

"So. Tell me exactly what is happening in that mind. Tell me everything." said her teacher seriously.

Hermione quite literally forced the words from her mouth. "I thought it had stopped. I thought I'd gotten better." she said numbly.

"Why did you think that?" Teodora inquired.

"Because I was happy for a while…"

"Were you?" asked Teodora lowly.

Hermione looked at her in consternation. "Yes… Of course! Things got easier after… After…"

"After you started your relationship." she finished for her, "Forgive me Hermione, but love is not a healing potion. It doesn't not make all of the bad things go away as much as we might like to believe it will." she held up a hand to stop Hermione when she made an attempt to disagree. "I know you will tell me you know this already. But perhaps, for once, try to see the similarities and not the differences. I am not trying to say you do not love Draco or your comrades, no, but you have done nothing to deal with _yourself_. Think about this for a moment. You break up with your last love, Ginny's brother, and what do you do? You pour yourself into your research of the Dividing Lines. Then Isobel makes the attempt on her life and you fall into your complications with Draco. Then your friend Harry Potter tortures you and again, you allow Draco to distract you, you use him to feel better. Do you not see this pattern? You are distracting all the time and then you wonder when the distraction stops working."

Hermione could find nothing whatsoever to say to any of this. A part of her felt like Teodora spoke the unequivocal truth; another part was angry, fiercely angry that Teodora had presumed to be able to waltz into her house and tell her she'd been doing it all wrong, that she'd failed. The angry part won out.

"I have not been using Draco as a distraction! I love him! And… And even if I was, he's doing it too! He's using me too! Just because he can't handle his father or what he did! He can't handle what happened during the war! And Ginny's the same! She's only using Blaise as a distraction so that she doesn't have to deal with Harry! Everyone knows it but she won't admit it! I'm not the only one in denial!" Hermione exclaimed, the words coming out all in one breath. She knew as she finished that her words were childish but the resentful part of her reared up and said it was all true, no matter how juvenile it sounded.

Teodora gave her a long look, "I realise all this. But no matter what they are doing, looking at their behavior is just another way for you to avoid your own. Don't play dumb with me Hermione, you're better than that."

Hermione leapt to her feet, throwing her hands in the air in indignation, "So what am I supposed to do?!" she demanded, a hint of hysteria bleeding into her tone, "Break up with Draco?! Leave behind the only thing that actually makes me feel good anymore?"

"Do you feel good?"

"No! But I'd feel worse if he wasn't here!" she shouted, "So I should just tell him to go right? I shouldn't subject him to me anymore should I?! He deserves better!"

"I was not saying that…" Teodora responded evenly.

"Well that's what it sounds like! I don't see any other solution to this problem!" said Hermione angrily.

Teodora sighed. "Perhaps you should think about seeing a mind healer."

Hermione laughed sarcastically. "Oh what a brilliant idea! How original! Like I hadn't thought of that!"

"Will you do it then?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"BECAUSE I AM NOT FUCKING CRAZY!" Hermione bellowed. One of the mugs sitting on the table exploded and coated her in scalding hot tea. She swore loudly.

The two of them stared at the shattered remains sitting on the table for a long moment. Hermione's breathing was labored. The panic was coming…

Teodora stood slowly, looking at Hermione with deep concern. "Hermione, please listen to me." she gestured towards the shattered mug, "You are losing control of yourself, can you not see this? Please consider that you may need some help."

"What are you talking about?! Plenty of people lose control of their magic!" she exclaimed hysterically as she tried to ignore the dots of burning pain that were blossoming on her bare legs.

"Yes…" responded Teodora evenly, "But these are usually young wizards who have not yet learnt to control themselves. You are an adult."

Hermione felt the panic bubbling up her throat. Teodora was right. She had never heard of an adult witch or wizard losing control of their magic like that. But of course, her mind would not hold on to these ideas and instead, chose to rebel. Hermione took a deep, steadying breath. "I don't have to listen to this." she said coldly, "I don't know what's going on with me right now but _I can manage it_."

Teodora looked at her for a long time before she sighed and stood slowly. "Alright. I will leave you be." she walked towards the door but turned back to look at Hermione with sad eyes. "If you need me, I'm here."

And with that, she left.

Hermione's fists clenched and unclenched as she stood in the centre of her lounge room staring at the closed door. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling like if she could just get through the following ten minutes, she'd be ok. Her whole body was shaking as her throat began to convulse.

Draco was not a habit, not an addiction. He made her feel alive. Teodora did not understand.

After a few minutes, the panic passed. She mastered it. Hermione walked calmly into the bathroom where she ran herself a bath, threw up, shaved her legs and afterwards, pulled out of her armoire the most alluring pair of underwear she owned. She put them on and nothing else.

She returned to the lounge room and retrieved from under the couch, the innocuous looking wooden box that was kept there.

Inside lay eighteen vials of shimmering black potion.

She knew what she had to do. Teodora had said she had been distracting; well, if that were true then the obvious conclusion she could draw was that she needed another distraction.

And she knew, deep down, that if she didn't find one soon, she'd lose her mind.

* * *

A/N SO! I am happy to announce that a trailer is in the works for Victim of the Fall! To be editing by a wonderful young woman who I think is just the most amazing person in the world right now!

My plan is to release it with the very last chapter, so keep an eye out for that one lovelies! I've seen some of it already and watching it has quite literally been tears in my eyes.

But I have a little activity for you, inspired by the upcoming trailer. I was wondering if you guys could tell me the song that you think best suits this story, perhaps it's a song you think fits it or one you listen to while you read. Anyway, let me know!

Much love to you all.

xx

Silvana - Hi! So to answer your two questions:  
Neville isn't a part of the tovarasi because... Well... I don't like him much. Ok, that's not true, I love him as a character but I really don't like writing him. Originally he was one of them but then I wrote chapter eight, the one where Draco gives his pretty speech, and I was really frustrated with him. He wasn't talking right! So perhaps it's that he doesn't like ME! Lol.  
To your second question, no I'm not Romanian, but I have Romanian relatives and they're lovely so I wanted a bit of them in the story :)


	32. Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

SHY

_"The heat is so great it plays tricks with the eye. It turns the road into water, then from water to sky."_

Hermione stood in the doorway to the bedroom clad in nothing but her small black underwear. She could hear Draco's footsteps slumping up the spiral staircase then across the landing. Her skin was itching uncomfortably, she didn't like being so naked when she felt so raw. But she wanted this. They needed something to pull them out of what they'd become as a couple. She needed to feel his love again.

There were two small vials of potion clenched in her hand.

Draco opened the door. For a moment, he didn't see her at all, simply letting himself in and closing the door behind him, dropping his bag on the floor. Finally, he looked up, saw her standing there and grinned.

"What's all this? Feeling better are we?" he said, sauntering towards her, his eyes travelling up and down her body hungrily.

"I've had an idea." said Hermione evenly, careful not to let her voice betray the havoc in her head.

Draco's hands landed on her hips when he reached her and Hermione felt the familiar pull in her lower abdomen when his face descended into the curve of her neck as he began to pepper her collarbone with kisses.

"Oh yes? And what's that?" he asked lowly.

"The Dividing Line…" she sighed, finding herself barely able to form coherent sentences when his hands moved up to cup her breasts. He made no response to this as his mouth found one of her nipples. This was one thing she still liked about their relationship. They were comfortable with each other enough now to avoid any polite awkwardness. If he wanted her, he made that abundantly clear, without waiting for a signed notice of approval.

Hermione moaned and brought her hands around behind his bent back. She pulled the cork from one of the vials and tipped its contents into her mouth but did not swallow. She seized the back of Draco's head, her fingers fisting in his hair, forced his face to pull up away from her breast and kissed him, pushing the potion into his mouth. As she suspected he did not recoil but took it in, drinking hungrily. She could feel his shock though.

He pushed her up against the bedroom wall, his pupils expanding alarmingly. Hermione uncorked the second vial and tipped the potion down her own throat before seizing his robes and kissing him again. The vials shattered on the floor where she dropped them.

When she opened her eyes again, the brilliant colour was back making the black fog in her mind flee as if from an offending army. She smiled.

Draco lifted her bodily and pushed her onto the bed. She lay there, staring at him as he tore his own clothes from his body. The moment he was fully exposed Hermione gasped. The strands that usually moved out of his body only when he used magic now seemed to be coming out of every pore, dancing sensually in the same greenish light. Hermione realised then that her body was reacting the same way as Draco stared down at her, transfixed by the sight. The tendrils coming out of each of them seemed to be reaching for the other, eager to connect.

It was then that Hermione noticed one lone strand that was slightly thicker than the others coming out of the very top of her spine. She followed it with her eyes and saw that it descended into the same place under Draco's hairline at the base of his crown.

She stood slowly, following the lone tendril that connected them. She moved behind him and pushed his head forward slightly. He complied. There it sunk under his skin and she could see it glowing and pulsing underneath, intertwining with his spinal cord. It had not been there the last time they'd taken the potion.

With forefinger and thumb Hermione pinched it between her fingers softly. She was surprised to discover that she could actually feel it there, like a thin, cool piece of rope. She tugged lightly. Draco moaned, his knees buckling slightly.

"What was that?" he whispered when he'd recovered.

Hermione moved in front of him and lifted her short hair. She felt his fingers on the back her neck, then, when he tugged lightly too, understood entirely the reason he had moaned. When he pulled on the tendril, her whole body was shot through with pure euphoria and ecstasy for a few blissful seconds. Almost like an orgasm but not. She moaned too.

Without any real conscious thought, they fell back on the bed together. Hermione had lost her underwear at some point though she couldn't pinpoint exactly when. Draco's fingers wound between her legs but she wasn't having any of that. She didn't want to be teased.

"Fuck me." she said almost demandingly. It wasn't a request.

Draco laughed lowly and complied, placing himself between her legs. The head of his cock teased at her entrance for a few moments before her legs linked between his back and tightened violently, forcing him to move into of her. Her eyes closed.

She cried out as she was impaled, feeling like she couldn't possibly ever be any happier than this. It was almost unconceivable that she'd been depressed before. What was depression, what was that black fog compared to this unimaginable power? This big love?

She and Draco had never had sex like that. He was violent with her and she was violent in return. What he was doing could only be described as animalistic. He thrust so hard that the whole bed shook, that it knocked the breath from her lungs each time their bodies slammed together. Her fingers raked his back. She could feel his skin gathering under her fingernails; feel the sticky wetness on her palms as they became coated in his blood.

When Hermione finally opened her eyes she found she could not see the bedroom at all. They were both encased in a sphere of softly glowing mist. The colours were indescribable. There were too many to count or name but then none at all. It was as if the walls of their sphere were tangible. Their cries and moans bounced off them and echoed beautifully.

"Look Draco." she gasped and he opened his eyes too, his thrusts slowing slightly when he saw their glowing cage.

His happiness seemed to travel into her then, reaching the apex of her spine and sending shivers down her back.

Suddenly, his thrusts became more urgent. Hermione pushing her hand down between their two bodies and let her fingers press and rub against her clit. She wanted to come with him. For the first time in a while, she found no difficulty in doing it. She realised she'd been at that point from the moment he'd penetrated her. She was ready.

Moments later the crescendo peaked and Hermione forced her eyes to stay open as she came, and watched the colour around them explode catastrophically.

But then came a very unfamiliar sensation. She was slightly ahead of Draco, her orgasm hitting her about fifteen seconds before he reached his. But when he did, she suddenly felt her mind filled with his presence, almost as if he'd cast _Legillimens_. The guttural shout that erupted from his mouth as his climax hit echoed around the spaces in her head too.

He was in there, inhabiting her headspace, and he had not yet realised it.

In that moment, even though she was dazed with the potion and dazed with the post orgasm endorphins running through her veins, she began to see a whole world of other possibilities.

His thrusts slowed, his arms shook on either side of her and his breath was one her face.

"Draco," she said slowly, "What are you doing?"

His eyes opened and he looked up at her. "What?"

And the presence was gone.

"You were in my head." she said.

"I was?" he asked, breathing hard.

"Yeah." she sighed as he pulled out and rolled off her.

"How?"

"I don't know. But I want you to try and do it again… Maybe it's like when you gave me that orgasm after taking the _Virtus Lucis_, remember?"

He chuckled. "Oh yes. I remember…"

Hermione laughed. "Shut up. Anyway, you sort of… _Pushed _yourself inside me. Try that."

Draco sat up onto one elbow and looked her in the eye. He wore a frustrated frown but Hermione was beginning to feel something tickling the back of her neck. She realised she was tensing so she tried to relax her muscles. She let out a slow breath and let herself sink into the mattress as she closed her eyes. Just when she was beginning to feel truly peaceful, Draco's awareness burst into her mind.

She let out a soft, "Oh!" as his consciousness filled up every nook and cranny in her head.

_Holy fuck._

Hermione gave a start. His voice was not coming from beside her but inside her head. He wasn't speaking aloud, he was thinking and she could hear it.

"Draco, I can hear you." she said quietly, her voice shaking, "I can hear you thinking."

_What?_

"I said, I can hear you thinking inside my mind." she repeated, "What is it like?"

_I… I can _see_! I can see everything in here. Everything that's you… Holy fuck._

"What? What does it look like?" she whispered urgently.

_I can't… I can't even begin to describe it. I can see the scars… From the cruciatus curse that Bellatrix cast. And the one you cast too and there's… There's this image of me… But it's changing, hold on… I think we're having sex… What? Now it's George Weasley! And I can feel you're… You're sad. Guilt. I can feel the guilt. _

Hermione's heart beat rapidly in her chest and her palms began to sweat. Was he seeing her dream?

_Wait… Now it's… But that's Potter! But… You never had sex with Potter did you?_

"No, Draco, it's a dream I've been having. One of the nightmares." she said weakly.

_Oh… Well… Now it's Weasley. And you're happy. I can feel you're happy… I don't understand._

He sounded tired and sad. Hermione wanted to comfort him, to refute what he was seeing but she knew she couldn't.

Suddenly it occurred to her that she could simply think of something different, the dream had been something she'd been dwelling on so perhaps she could just dwell on another thought. She grasped for something in the recesses of her mind that might make him feel better. But of course, when she was trying not to think of certain things, those things were all she could think about.

_Hermione, what are you doing!? Calm down!_

He sounded panicked.

"What? What are you seeing now?" she asked frantically, trying to grab a hold of her whirring mind.

_A man is falling through a grey curtain up on a raised dais. I don't know who it is… Now you're running through a forest, Weasley is in front of you and… He's apparated away. Potter's there now. He's twitching and talking. I think he's asleep… You're cutting some sort of necklace off his chest…You're… You're at a funeral. Mrs Weasley is crying. You're standing in the lake holding Isobel… You think she's dead… Fucking hell._

She could hear his distress and brought forward the one thought she could summon that she felt might be happy.

_Wait… Now it's us. We're kissing on New Year's… It's changing again… I'm above you and we're… I'm coming. You think I'm a god. You love me._

Just then, his voice constricted with emotion and slowly but carefully she felt his presence leak out of her mind. She opened her eyes.

He was still lying beside her but his thumb and forefinger were pressed into his eyes. He was crying again. Hermione rolled onto her side and draped her arm and leg over his naked body, without waiting for him to give her permission; she focussed her energy and began to push herself into his mind. The curiosity was too much. She wanted to see what he'd seen.

It was like her consciousness exited her head through the singular green strand connected to the apex of her spine. For a moment she was aware only of light but then, it was like she opened her eyes and she was in a great, cavernous black space. But it wasn't black. It was filled with images.

Hermione was aware, dully, of her physical body, but she was more aware of herself in the recesses of Draco's psyche. She was there, really there. If she looked down she could see her own naked body and her feet planted on what she assumed was some sort of floor. Pictures were blooming out of the darkness, showing her flashes of his life and it reminded her of being inside a muggle movie theatre, except the images were everywhere.

The other obvious difference was that she could actually feel his emotions.

_What do you see?_

His voice echoed through the vast space.

"I can see… I can see your mother and your father. They're talking about you like you're not there, talking about how you're doing in school. He's… He's shaming you. I can feel your pain, the yearning…" she watched as the image dissolved into something else. A girl talking, someone she recognised. "You're talking to Pansy. She's babbling about the Dark Lord. You're scared." the picture flitted away into blackness but the feelings stayed until an image much stronger and brighter than the last ones assaulted her eyes. She was looking at Harry standing in the doorway to a bathroom. "Now… It's Harry…" she felt Draco's overwhelming, crushing desire to speak, to seek help, but then, equally strongly, she felt the Dark Lord's influence over his life crush it. The memory Draco drew his wand. "Oh, Draco…" she said quietly, "Why didn't you say something? He would have listened… He would have helped you…"

He did not respond.

The image flickered out and Hermione was plunged into darkness.

"How do you have such good control over it?" she asked, knowing that she would not have been able to stop the thoughts coming unbidden to her mind even if she tried.

_I'm an Occlumens. _he replied. _First rule, control your emotions. Empty your mind._

"Oh. Ok. Well… It's quite dark in here and…" but she was never able to finish. Suddenly not one image but a thousand of them burst into life all around her. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures of her.

She watched herself sleeping, smiling, coming, talking. His mind showed the image of her, blue and cold in the lake, of how she'd looked from up on the dais at Hogwarts when he gave his start of term speech, of the fire in her eyes when he'd walked in and found her battling Harry.

The emotions that cascaded over her as she watched all this were varied. There was admiration and respect, frustration and amusement, arousal and anger, fondness and concern, yearning and need. But… The one thing that seemed to be missing was love. She didn't feel his love.

Hermione felt almost ready to lose herself in despair at this realisation but she reigned in the feelings. Perhaps she was misinterpreting it. Everyone felt love in different ways… Perhaps she couldn't feel his love because he didn't feel it the same way as she did so she was looking for the wrong thing.

Either way, she didn't want to look at herself anymore.

She turned away from the images.

"Draco… I want to try something. Can you imagine light?" she asked.

He did not reply but suddenly, the images were gone and replaced by light, it flooded the space. It did not look much different to the blackness though now, she could see it was infinite. It made her head spin.

There was nothing except the brightness and the shadows of memories moving through the air. But… There was something… She could see it in the distance, a black shape. Unlike the memories, it looked tangible. She walked towards it.

_What are you doing?_

"I can see something… I'm walking towards it…" she said lightly.

_Stop._

"Why?"

_It's… Uncomfortable. You're going too deep. _

"I just want to see what this thing is… It's alright Draco. You can trust me."

She could feel his discomfort and as she moved towards the black shape, the discomfort was beginning to morph into all out panic.

She broke into a run and suddenly, it was on top of her. A wall.

Hermione looked at it in confusion, feeling that it was a little anticlimactic. It was a nondescript stretch of blank, black wall, about two metres wide. She looked behind it and found nothing. She frowned in confusion before reaching out a hand to touch it, noting that is felt cold like brick.

_That hurts._ said Draco and she noticed, with alarm, that he now sounded angry.

"Does it hurt when I touch it?" she asked calmly.

_I don't know what the fuck you're doing, but it hurts!_

Hermione swiftly withdrew her hand. But there was something familiar about the wall…Something she could not quite put her finger on. Until…

"Draco," she said evenly, "I think this is a memory charm."

The magic moving off the wall was certainly familiar. She'd spent months acquainting herself with it before she'd gone on the hunt for the Horcruxes. And then she'd used it on her parents.

She could feel his immense anxiety and so, allowed her consciousness to float out of his mind, through the green tendril and back into her own head space.

Hermione opened her eyes and felt instantly dizzy.

Draco was lying on his back; his forehead had beads of sweat dripping down into his hairline.

"A memory charm?" he asked breathlessly.

Hermione nodded. "I can reverse it if you like… I know how." She'd made damn sure she knew how before she'd cast it on her parents.

"Yeah… Alright." he said, looking scared. "Who would put a memory charm on me?" he asked, more of himself than her.

She shrugged, noticing that the colours and the tendrils were beginning to fade.

"We should sleep now." she said firmly. She didn't want to be awake while the potion wore off. "We can think about that when we wake up, yeah?"

He nodded, still frowning and Hermione lay herself back down next to his body, snuggling into his warmth. She wasn't worried. More than likely, he'd seen something he shouldn't have during the war. But that wouldn't have any effect on where they were now. The war was over.

Hermione drifted into sleep with Draco's heartbeat singing in her ear.

* * *

Hermione woke at about one o'clock in the morning, cold and shivering. The sheets were thrown back off her body. The bedroom's curtains were strangely open and a brilliant white moon was dimly lighting the room. Everything was so quiet, so still, that she might have believed for a moment that she was alone. If Draco was still in bed with her, he wasn't touching her at all and she felt slightly hurt that he hadn't drawn the covers back up over her naked body. Her stomach churned unpleasantly.

Hermione rolled over and started a little to see that she was _not _alone, nor was she the only one awake. Draco was lying there, staring at the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head.

"Hey." she whispered. He turned his head slightly and looked at her blankly but made no move to respond. Hermione extended an arm to lay her hand on his chest. "Are you alright?"

He nodded.

"What's going on?" she pressed, feeling both frustrated and a little fearful of his insular behaviour.

"Just thinking." he finally responded.

She hated him when he was like this, when he wouldn't talk to her. It felt so wrong, like they shouldn't be capable of not talking to each other. Hermione rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling too.

"What was tonight about, Hermione?" Draco asked suddenly. She could see him turn his face to look at her out of her peripheral vision.

"I don't know. Things… Well, they haven't been great lately have they? I wanted to do something for us to… Pull us out of the funk I guess." she replied, sighing.

"What funk?"

Hermione gave a quiet, cynical laugh and turned onto her side to look at him. "Why do you have to do that? Why pretend? You know what it's been like. We're not the same as we used to be…"

He frowned, "No, I guess not."

Hermione stared at him for a long time, waiting for him to say something more, to offer her something else that might be useful. But he gave her nothing.

"What happened to us?" she asked quietly. He didn't answer.

She could feel the tears prickling the back of her eyes and used getting out of bed as an excuse to dash at them with the back of her hand. Her feet padded across the floor towards the bedroom door.

"I'm going to make some tea." she said huskily.

"Ok." was the only reply she got.

Hermione pulled on a fresh pair of underwear and her quidditch jersey. She walked into the kitchen without a backwards glance and set the kettle onto the stove to boil. The sound of the gas stove flaring up and the hissing as it hit the metal bottom of the kettle made her feel less like she was going mad. The flat had been far too quiet.

She stretched up towards the cupboard that housed her mugs, picked up two and then, after a pause, put one back. If he wanted tea, he could make it himself.

There was a noise behind her and Hermione turned around to find Draco standing in the archway of the kitchen, yawning widely, clad in nothing but his underwear. In that moment, she hated that she still found him beautiful.

She raised her eyebrows at him questioningly.

"I was wondering if you could undo that memory charm." he said.

Hermione frowned. "Now?"

"Yeah."

"Hold on." she took the kettle off the stove and moved past him into the lounge room to retrieve her wand off the coffee table. "Are you worried?" she asked lightly.

"No, just curious." he replied. "Do you need me to sit down?"

"That would be preferable."

He sank down onto the couch and Hermione perched next to him, pointing her wand at his temple. The process was not unlike the _Legillimens _spell. She would need to enter his mind and deconstruct the charm delicately, only unlike _Legillimens_, she couldn't see what she was doing, she had to feel her way around the magic. Without further ado, she said the required incantation under her breath and closed her eyes. The construct of the spell began to move around her, not unlike the strands of magic she'd seen under the influence of the _Zeitei Otrava_. In fact, her experience with the potion actually made the process easier as she was able to picture in her mind what the charm might look like.

Hermione began unravelling the complicated webs of magic around Draco's mind. It was stronger than she'd imagined and it was its density that made her nervous. Whoever had cast it really did not want Draco to remember anything. Has she been less experienced or well versed in the process, she would not have been able to do it at all.

After a few long minutes of intense concentration, the final pieces of the charm fell away and Hermione opened her eyes.

"Done."

Draco was staring off into space, his brow furrowed. He began to look more and more panicked as the time ticked by and Hermione resisted the temptation to demand that he speak. Eventually though, her resistance crumbled.

"What? What is it?" she asked urgently.

Draco took a deep, steadying breath, before he looked at Hermione seriously.

"You and Potter and Weasley, what were you doing during the war? All those months you were gone?" he asked slowly.

"We were… We were looking for Horcruxes." she replied, frowning in confusion. "They were things that Voldemort used to…"

"I know what they are." he said abruptly, cutting her off. "Did you destroy them all?"

"Yes! Of course!" she scoffed. As if he could simply think that they'd left any behind, that they'd risk that. Hermione began to relax, clearly he'd heard something about them and that's why the charm had been put in place. Though, she thought privately, he was lucky he hadn't been killed.

"Are you sure?" pressed Draco.

Hermione laughed and put a hand on his knee. "Yes, Draco I'm sure." he exhaled loudly and grinned sheepishly at her before she continued, "The locket, the cup, the snake, the diadem, the ring, the diary and Harry himself. All destroyed."

Suddenly Draco didn't look so relaxed. He sat up straighter and stared at Hermione intently, "And the wand?" he asked slowly.

Hermione shook her head, baffled, "Which wand? What are you talking about?"

He grasped onto her shoulders and shook her slightly. "The wand! The wand! _His_ wand!"

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth. "His… his wand was a Horcrux?" she said dimly.

"YES!" he all but shouted. Hermione's ears rung.

"But… That's not possible…" she whispered, terror filling her mind, insinuating itself into all of the dark corners of her psyche. "How do you know?!" she demanded.

He frowned in concentration. "I… I overhead him talking about it… In my sixth year during the Christmas holidays."

"What?! What did he say?!" she said urgently, "Draco, I _need _to know!"

"I can show you if you like."

"How?"

"Use _Legillimens_. It's not that hard… You just picture the spell like a blunt force. Sort of like we did before with the potion."

Hermione did not bother to respond. She lifted her wand, pointed at his head and said as firmly as she could, "_Legillimens_!"

Instantly she had the feeling of weightlessness as the image of Draco's pale face in front of her blinked out and all she could see was darkness. Then, slowly, voices reached her ears, as if approaching her from a long distance away.

"You're to wait here until you are called. You will not leave, do you understand me?"

Hermione recognised that voice, though it was usually laced with silk. She wasn't used to it being so harsh.

"But father… Won't you come in with me?" that was Draco, his voice a little higher than she was used to. He sounded terrified.

Suddenly, the blackness dissolved. She could see Draco, standing in front of a pair of massive wooden doors. They were closed. Lucius towered over him, wearing a sneer of disgust.

"Do you contradict me, boy?! Do you really expect the Dark Lord to spare such an insolent little coward?!" he snarled.

Draco cowered.

"You will wait here. Do you understand me? If you move from this spot, I will personally see to it that you are tortured within an inch of your life! Do you not understand what is at stake here?! If you do not comply, your mother and I are as good as dead! Do you want your mother's blood on your hands, Draco?" hissed Lucius.

Draco twitched jarringly at his father's cutting words and shook his head. "No sir." Hermione had never heard him so utterly defeated.

"So you will stay here until you are called. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes sir."

And with one last revolted scowl, Lucius swept away, leaving the young Draco to stare up at the wooden door. Hermione could see him shaking.

A few long minutes passed. Hermione could hear voices, distantly, as if they were coming from behind the door, but she could not make out anything they were saying. As per his father's orders, he did not move.

Suddenly, the door opened a crack and Draco jumped. The voices became crystal clear.

"Yes, my lord. I will see to it immediately."

Hermione's skin crawled. She would recognise that voice anywhere. She looked around Draco's body to see Bellatrix Lestrange standing with her hand on the door knob, looking behind her, away from her frozen nephew.

"Oh, and Bellatrix?" said Voldemort in his high, cold voice.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I have been concerned as of late…"

"About what, my lord?" asked Bellatrix in her simpering tone. Her hand left the doorknob as she walked back into the depths of the room so that Hermione could no longer see her, but the door remained ajar. Draco stood stock still in front of the door and she wanted to yell out to him to run away, to hide, but she knew it would be pointless.

"My Horcruxes, Bellatrix. You are the only person whom I trust with such matters. I fear that the old fool may suspect… But this is folly, of course. The cup still resides safely in your fault at Gringotts I trust?"

"Yes, of course, my lord."

"Yes…" the end of the word rang through the air eerily, "I have long believed them to be untouchable. But now, perhaps I realise I was mistaken. They may be found, should one look deep enough…" he said in a tone that suggested he was talking more to himself than to her.

"I believe you underestimate yourself my lord." said Bellatrix reverentially.

Voldemort gave a high, cold laugh. "Yes, as I am most prone to do… Of course, my faith remains firm with the two that remain closest to me. Nagini is rarely anywhere but by my side and my wand, of course, remains always in my hand, though I have long been unsure as to whether I did succeed in making it a Horcrux… Anyone who would dare attempt to take it would be a fool indeed." his tone was laced with a malignance that made Hermione feel sick.

"Of course, my lord." said Bellatrix, "You have nothing to fear, my lord."

"I will be the judge of that, Bellatrix." he snarled, "You may go."

Hermione watched as Bellatrix backed out of the room and closed the door behind her. She turned and started upon seeing Draco. Without missing a beat, she grabbed the back of his robes and pushed him bodily backwards into a dark alcove jutting off the large room.

"What are you doing?!" she hissed.

"M-my father told me I was to wait." he replied, shaking and cringing away from his Aunt.

"How much did you hear?!"

"N-nothing!" he cried, a hint of a plea in his voice.

"Do not lie to me, Draco!" there was a moment where her eyes locked on his and something passed between them before Bellatrix spoke again, "If the Dark Lord had not given you a most important mission, Draco, I would kill you myself! But alas, we cannot risk it."

Draco's Aunt raised her wand and everything was plunged again into darkness.

Back in reality, Hermione opened her eyes, her vision lurching slightly as it readjusted. Draco was looking at her with an unreadable expression.

Hermione leapt to her feet, sending her own wand clattering across the wooden floor loudly. "Oh my god… Draco… What if…? He said that he did not know if he'd succeeded in making the wand a Horcrux! But what if he did?! What if he's not dead?! What if Voldemort's not gone?!"

"Don't say the name!" Draco demanded suddenly but Hermione ignored him.

Her hands shook and her throat ran dry. The mere thought that he may still be out there somewhere, half formed, probably waited for someone to… to…

Hermione's knees hit the floor with a painful crack as the truth hit her mind like a killing curse. It was one of the most painful truths she'd ever experienced in all her life. She looked slowly up at Draco, who had stood too and was staring down at her with a manic expression on his face.

"Draco… Harry… He… He was using Voldemort's wand."

"What?"

"When he was here… He didn't have the phoenix feather wand… He had Voldemort's."

She'd held the wand in her hand, it had been right there. She'd used it to torture Harry and she remembered the satisfaction, the feeling it had given her. Feelings that were not her own… And he'd gotten it back. He'd lifted his hand and the wand had flown out of her fingers and returned to its master even though she'd technically won its allegiance by taking it from him. Because it wasn't just a wand… It was a Horcrux.

Then, she knew. She should have seen it before. Hadn't she said it over and over again? Harry wasn't Harry anymore. She'd used the thought to comfort herself but now she realised the truth. He wasn't Harry. He was Voldemort.

But then, why didn't he kill her? Why did he come to her at all? Perhaps there was still a part of Harry still alive in his mind, locked away in the very depths of it. A part that she might still be able to save…

Hermione leapt to her feet, snatching her wand from the floor.

"We have to go." she said. She knew what had to be done. She'd devoted a year of her life already to doing it. She'd known she might have died last time, but she'd been determined, committed to saving the wizarding world. She'd sworn to help destroy him. And that oath still held true.

The threat of death was still just as real, but she didn't care. She would not stand by and allow another war to tear the lives of her loved ones apart.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" asked Draco slowly, she could see his heart jumping in his bare chest.

"We're leaving. We need to talk to the _tovarasi_, to Ginny. I… I need to see Ron." she said firmly. Ron had sworn to the hunt as well. If there was anyone that could aid her in saving Harry, it was him. Without waiting for Draco to reply, Hermione dashed into the bedroom and threw on a pair of jeans, her bra and a jumper, her wand clutched in her hand the whole time. She returned only moments later to the lounge room and snatched her beaded back off the coffee table. She bent down and retrieved the box that contained the remaining vials of the _Zeitei Otrava_ from under the couch and deposited the whole thing into the bag. She added _Bastet's Line_ as an afterthought.

Finally, she looked up at Draco who was still standing in the middle of the room.

"Come on! What are you doing?! We have to go!" she cried, bemused by his lack of action.

To her alarm, Draco did not move.

* * *

Silvana - Perhaps you could go over to adultfanfiction dot net? I'm perfectly happy to reply to reviews publicly there :)


	33. Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

GREY

_"What can I say, I'm wired this way and you're wired to me. And what can I do but wallow in you unintentionally?"_

"Draco?" she couldn't handle it, couldn't handle the fact that he was just standing there looking down at her. How could he be so calm? How could he _not _move? Hermione felt like if she was still for even a moment her heart would burst out of her chest and all over the room.

He didn't respond to her. His face was flickering between many different emotions too quickly for Hermione to keep up. She stared up at him from her position on the floor, crouching over her beaded bag.

Slowly, he moved forward and knelt down in front of her. Hermione watched him as he dragged her beaded bag towards him and plunged his arm into it. He withdrew the box of the _Zeitei Otrava_ and _Bastet's Line_. He slid the box back under the couch before Hermione finally registered what he was doing. She flew forward, her hands closing around his wrists.

"Draco, what are you doing?!" she demanded furiously.

"We're not going anywhere." he responded, his voice low.

"What are you talking about?!" Hermione wrenched _Bastet's Line _out of his hand, dropping it straight back into her bag. She stood, holding out her wand. "_Accio Zeitei Otrava_!"

The box zoomed out from under the couch and flew up into her hands where it immediately followed the book into the bag. She rounded on Draco again, slinging the strap over her shoulder.

He held his hands up in a placating gesture and when he spoke, his voice shook slightly. "Look… I know you want to go after the wand… But… Perhaps we could just, you know, forget about the memory. We could just… Just leave it."

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes, her whole body finally stilling. "I don't understand… You… You don't want to do anything? You want to just stay here?"

He nodded.

"How?" she asked softly, her mind whirling in confusion, "How could we just forget about this? Voldemort might be back, Draco. We might be able to prevent another war!"

Hermione noticed him run his hand over the Dark Mark and her stomach began to churn.

"This is the Dark Lord, Hermione. We can't do anything… We can't help. You don't know what he's like." he said, a hint of a plea in his voice. "There's no hope."

The room span for a moment and she felt like she might topple over. No hope? What did hope have to do with it? She'd never had hope before, but she'd continued to fight all the same, because she would not have been able to live with herself if she didn't. Her life and the lives of her friends and family depended on it. And she'd do it all again if she had to, of course she would. But Draco was telling her not to, he was refusing to help her and for a moment, she couldn't understand. But understanding evaded her for only a moment before she understood.

Hermione's blood boiled and her vision blurred with rage. "WHAT?!" she screamed, raising her wand, "You have the chance to do something now and you're backing out?! You finally have a chance to prove your loyalty and you're just going to give in to him again?! Draco, you're a death eater! You have the mark! He'll call you and if you don't come, he'll kill you! Do you think you can outrun him?!"

He didn't answer and with a gut wrenching stab of despair, she understood.

"You'd go, wouldn't you?" she asked in a hollow voice, "If he calls you, you're going answer the call, aren't you?"

After a long moment, he nodded.

Hermione let out a howl of rage and flung the coffee table that lay between them out of the way with a catastrophic crash. Draco cringed and she could see the tears in his eyes.

"I TRUSTED YOU!" she screamed as she planted her hands on his bare chest and pushed with all her might. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. Hermione towered over him. "I THOUGHT YOU'D CHANGED! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!" she dropped to her knees, so that she was straddling his body as her fists lashed out at every exposed part of him. His arms rose to protect his face.

"I'm sorry, Hermione! I'm sorry!" he sobbed from underneath his arms.

"I don't care! I don't fucking care!" with one last crashing blow to the side of his head, Hermione pushed off him and stumbled backwards, her hand resting over her heart.

It was worse than Ron. The pain was astronomical, incomprehensible. This was betrayal. Draco had betrayed her.

He clambered to his feet and she was filled with a fierce satisfaction at seeing the blood pouring from a cut over his eye. His hands were held out pleadingly but all she wanted to do was break every single one of his fingers.

"I'm sorry!" he sobbed again, "I don't want to! I don't want to do it! But you don't know what he's like! You don't know what he's capable of!"

She backed away from him, towards the door, "What do you think he'll do, Draco?! You think he'll spare me? Think he'll look kindly on our relationship? I AM A MUDBLOOD! I'd be better off walking of the astronomy tower!"

"I could… I could talk to him… I could try…"

Hermione gave a loud, hysterical laugh, "And you think he'll listen?!" she said incredulously but then, her voice lowered suddenly, all the fight dying from her body as the pain crushed against her diaphragm, "You are unrescuable. I can't help you. And I won't stand here and wait to be murdered just because of your cowardice."

He didn't respond but his face crumpled and fell into his hands. For a few moments, the room was overtaken by a soul crushing silence as the two of them stood, facing one another, yet again on opposite sides. Only this time, that fact tore Hermione's heart into tiny, sharp little pieces.

Them lying in bed together, intertwined and in love felt like years ago. All their problems felt like nothing compared to this. The war felt far more real than it had in almost a year and Hermione knew that she was now the only one that could stop the third coming, only she had the information that might save the wizarding world. The only person holding her back was the man she thought she'd loved, the man she'd thought she could trust.

"I'm leaving." she said finally, her voice shaking, "I don't want you to be here when I come back. I don't want to ever see you again."

"Hermione, please…" he begged.

She cut him off. "Don't forget who I am, Draco. Don't forget what I mean to the wizarding world, what I will mean after I have defeated Voldemort again. If I ever spy you, even out of the corner of my eye, I will make sure you are put straight into Azkaban with your worthless, death eater parents."

And with that, she turned around, laid her hand on the doorknob, opened the door and walked through it. With a crash and an air of finality, it closed behind her. She didn't stop to listen, to see what Draco would do, didn't wait to see if he followed her.

She had more important things to worry about now.

Hermione tore down the spiral staircase and left Flourish and Blotts at a sprint. The faces of the shops in Diagon Alley flew past her as the night air whipped away the tears that cascaded down her face.

For some reason, she didn't feel shocked. She kind of thought she should have been but the feeling just wasn't present in her mind. She knew now that she'd been right about him from the beginning and being the better person, following everyone else's advice had only allowed her to get her heart stomped on. She hadn't trusted him when she'd arrived at Hogwarts. She'd said she would never be friends with a Death Eater.

That was until she stopped classifying him in her mind as a Death Eater.

Oh, what a stupidly catastrophic mistake.

As usual, he could talk the talk, but he couldn't walk the walk. Like a typical Slytherin, he was willing to do just about anything to keep himself safe. She'd thought he was better than that. She'd been able to understand his cowardice before, Voldemort had the might of the ministry behind him before, not to mention his hordes of death eaters, werewolves, giants and Dementors. But now it was just Harry. Just Harry. One person. And still Draco's fear prevailed and stopped him from doing the right thing.

Hermione reached the Leaky Cauldron. For a moment, she could only stand there and stare at the faded brick wall of the pub.

She decided then, when her mind was on the brink of collapse, that she would allow herself three minutes, only three, to feel her hurt.

Her hands curled around her stomach as her mouth opened in a silent scream. She doubled over, her head dipped towards the ground. She felt like she wanted to die and not just because of what Draco had done, of what he'd said, but because a tiny part of her wanted to go back home and get back into bed with him. She wanted to try his plan, to see if it worked. Maybe she could die for him if the Dark Lord didn't listen to his pleas… Maybe she'd be happy with that. At least she'd have him. She wanted to be able to forget about the memory. She wanted it desperately.

But she knew she wasn't capable of that, because she wouldn't be the only one to die. What would happen to the rest of the _tovarasi_? To Harry? To Ron? What would happen to Draco? He'd be back to murdering, torturing, controlling, and bowing down. He'd be broken as surely as Harry was.

Suddenly, Hermione was confronted by a stunningly vivid premonition of what her future might look like at the feet of Voldemort. Draco would become Lucius; Voldemort would make sure of that. And if he did listen to Draco's pleas and spared her, she would have to spend every day staring into the face of someone who'd once been her best friend, knowing that he was gone. She'd be used to breed more death eaters. She and Draco would have to be obedient, complacent. They'd have to do whatever the dark lord told them to do. Draco would be destroyed. She could almost see the tattered shreds of his soul if she entered his mind then, from all the killing he'd be forced to do, to watch. Perhaps he'd even have to murder _her _in the end…

Hermione took a deep breath and straightened. In a way, she knew Draco was lost to her. She'd known it the moment he'd told her to stay behind. But she could still save him. She could still make sure he didn't have to live the kind of life he'd resigned himself too. Even if it meant that she'd never touch him again, or talk with him again. She could still insure his happiness.

Hermione turned on the spot.

* * *

When she arrived at Hogsmeade station moments later, she was not in the least bit shocked to see them running down the road when she apparated into Hogsmeade station.

Of course, the _tovarasi _would have felt it. All of it. And there they all were, with startlingly reliability, sprinting towards her, a dark mass against the road. Hermione jogged past the Hogwarts boundaries to meet them. When she converged with the group, she noticed most of them had tear tracks running down their faces.

She found for a minute, that she could not say anything at all. They were all looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to drop the bombshell but the words continued to stick in her throat.

Eventually, Juliet spoke up, her voice low and urgent. "Is Draco ok?"

Hermione nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again. "He's… He's…" she stuttered as her voice faltered over and over again. She couldn't tell them about Draco. She just couldn't say it.

"What? What is it, Hermione?" asked Ginny.

Hermione decided that there was more important news to impart. She looked her right in Ginny's eyes and said, in one breath, "I know what's wrong with Harry."

The younger girl visibly started, all the fire in her aura seemed to go out and Hermione caught Blaise throwing her a sharp look.

Ginny moved forwards until she was right in front of Hermione, the look in her eyes sheer desperation. "How?" she asked quietly.

Hermione took a deep breath and stared around at her friends through the darkness. She realised then that she would have to share her secret with the _tovarasi _now, there was no avoiding it. They needed to know. They needed to hear it from the beginning. Her hands shook and her throat felt like it was about to close up but she pushed all those feelings away. Finally, after all that time, she found her determination, her resilience.

"Last year, Draco and I began experimenting with Dividing Line magic." she said, her voice firm and authoritative. Many of the group gasped while the others merely looked confused. Hermione did not waste time filling them in as to what the magic involved and continued after only a short pause. "We managed to acquire the recipe for a very rare potion called the _Zeitei Otrava_, a potion that would allow us to physically see our own magic. We brewed it on New Year's Eve and a few days later, we took it. But after that… After a while we stopped our research. We got distracted." She shifted uncomfortably, knowing what that distraction had been, knowing what it had felt like… She pressed on, "Last night, we took it again. And we discovered that we were able to move into each other's minds, we could see each other's thoughts. When I entered Draco's I found a blockage that I knew to be a memory charm and when the effects of the potion wore off, I undid it. We… We discovered it had been cast by Bellatrix Lestrange in order to prevent Draco from remembering a conversation he had overhead between her and Voldemort. It was a conversation about the Horcruxes." again, she did not elaborate, trusting that the group would understand, "As you know, the diary, the locket, the cup, the snake, the diadem, the ring, and the piece of soul inside Harry were all destroyed. But Voldemort had one more Horcrux that we did not know about. His wand."

At this, Ginny let out a small groan and brought her hands up to her face. Hermione looked at her and said, "Harry has been using Voldemort's wand."

It wasn't a question but Ginny nodded and Hermione wanted to hit her just for neglecting to pass on that one piece of vital information. After a moment, she tore her eyes away from her young friend and looked around at the rest of the group.

"Harry must be found. The wand must be destroyed. I don't think I need to tell you what might happen if it isn't. Harry hasn't murdered anyone yet, for all we know the worst he has done has been to kidnap me. This leads me to believe that there may be a small part of him still rebelling. But who knows how long that will last, who knows how long he will be able to fight off Voldemort's strength." she stared down at her hands then, the firmness falling away from her voice. "I… I don't expect any of you to come with me. I know it will be dangerous. I don't want to put any of you in danger. But I have to do it. I have to find him."

She looked around at her friends and felt her heart ache just a little. Every single one of them looked shocked and scared, of course, but underneath that was a glowing determination.

"What do we need to do?" asked Isobel, resolutely.

"Find Harry but… But first," she looked at Ginny again, "We have to find Ron. He needs to know. He'll want to help."

And though Hermione had felt for a long time that she no longer knew Ron, that he was someone foreign to her, she felt in her heart that he would help, that he wouldn't sit by and let his best friend's do battle against one another.

"Alright." said Luna, "Let's go then."

"To the Burrow?" asked Susan.

Hermione nodded. "To the Burrow." she turned around to walk back towards the Hogwarts boundaries, noting the footsteps that followed her.

"Wait!" said Padma suddenly. "Where's Draco?"

Hermione turned back towards them again, her heart hurting more than ever because she knew that she couldn't lie to them, that she had to tell them what had become of their comrade. That he was lost.

"He chose the other side." she said, and for the first time, her voice cracked painfully.

The faces of the group all paled visibly as they stared at her in silence, the backdrop of Hogwarts hanging behind them.

"Oh, Hermione…" said Ginny softly, her voice laced with pain.

"Don't." Hermione bit out. "It's my fault really. I should have… I should have known. I should never have trusted him." Her fists clenched tightly as she tried to swallow the hurt, the memory. "Come on…"

She made to continue walking back towards Hogsmeade station but Isobel spoke and stopped her, Hermione could see the shadow of tears in her eyes.

"No." she said firmly.

"What?" Hermione demanded, beginning to become frustrated by these persistent delays, "We don't have time for this! If we're going to do this, we must go _now_!"

"No!" said Isobel again. "I don't believe it! I don't believe Draco would do that!"

"Well he did, alright!" shouted Hermione, barely aware that her voice had risen. "I asked him if he'd return to him should Voldemort call and he confirmed it! He'd leave us for _him_!"

Isobel fell silent and Hermione stared around at the rest of the _tovarasi_, bathed in the moonlight, as if daring them to defy her.

"But… Maybe he didn't mean it…" said Juliet slowly.

Hermione scoffed, "Didn't _mean _it?! Is that how gullible you all are?!"

"He's probably just scared, Hermione." said Blaise lowly.

"Yeah! Like he's always been! The poor, scared little Death Eater! Notice how he never really owned the things he did, Blaise?! It was always Voldemort who made him, his parents who indoctrinated him! He never said he did those things because he believed in it, did he? _Did he_?!" she demanded, her voice shrill and hysterical. "I gave him the chance to prove his loyalty! I asked him to come and he said _NO_!"

None of them said anything to this.

Hermione continued, her voice savage and unforgiving, "If he had any faith in us, any faith in _me_, he would have come! But instead, he let me leave to face Voldemort on my own! Knowing that I might be tortured, knowing that I might be killed and knowing that the same fate might befall all of you! _He betrayed us_! After everything he's said, everything he's done, we can now say with absolute confidence that he would rather kneel at the feet of that mass murderer than save any one of us!"

She stared around at her friends blindly, knowing that every single thing she'd said had been true, even if she didn't want to believe it. Even if it crushed her under its weight.

After a long moment, Luna sighed as if in resignation and said, "So where do we go from here?"

Hermione was about to speak but Isobel interrupted her, "I'd like to go and speak to Draco and I think Blaise should come with me." she said, staring at Hermione in open defiance.

"Fine." Hermione responded coldly, a tiny whisper of fear lacing through her blood. What if Isobel chose the other side too? What if Blaise did?

"Should we tell McGonagall and Teodora?" asked Susan, interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione nodded reluctantly, tearing her eyes away from Isobel. "Absolutely. Susan, you and Juliet tell McGonagall. Padma, Eli and Luna, you can tell Teodora. Try not to go into too much detail about the Dividing Line magic with McGonagall if you can avoid it. But Teodora knows. All of you return to my flat once you're done. If they wish to come, let them. Ginny, you and I can go to the Burrow."

Ginny nodded meekly and the group split in two without another word, Susan, Juliet, Eli, Padma and Luna all running back up towards the castle while Hermione, Isobel, Ginny and Blaise set off towards Hogsmeade station at a jog.

They skidded to a halt on the platform and gave each other curt nods of farewell, but just as they were about to apparate to their separate destinations, Hermione seized Isobel's arm and forced the younger girl to look at her.

"If he's there when I get back, I'll fucking blind him." she snarled viciously, the fear of what she felt was Isobel's imminent betrayal seeping through her mind agonisingly.

Both Isobel and Blaise looked stricken and truly scared at this statement and Ginny gasped but Hermione ignored them. She released Isobel and grasped Ginny's hand, turning them both into darkness.

* * *

It was the smell that undid her. One second she was standing on a windy hilltop looking down at the darkened Burrow, the next, she was one her hands and knees. The scent of the grass, the earth, the fresh air… it was as if she'd never left, as if the darkness and grief in her mind had never gone away. Her heart hurt.

"Hermione?! Are you ok?" asked Ginny urgently, kneeling down beside her and resting a hand on her back.

Hermione nodded stiffly. "Yeah… I just… I hate this. I hate all of it." suddenly, she was sobbing, and Ginny was hugging her, sinking down to sit beside her on the ground. They sat together in the grass, arms wrapped tightly around each other, the familiar scent burning throughout Hermione's body along with the heartbreaking grief. All the urgency of her mission seemed to bleed out of her.

"I know…" said Ginny softly, staring down at the house. "It's strange isn't it? There were those few weeks after the final battle and it all just felt… like it was going to be ok. Like we were going to be alright. Now… It feels almost stupid that we ever thought that…"

Hermione nodded. "I know exactly what you mean." she said thickly and she did, she'd felt that way for months and months. She suddenly realised then, that Ginny probably had too, if there were anyone who knew almost exactly how she'd been feeling since she left the Burrow, it probably would have been Ginny. Perhaps that's why they never really talked, not because there was too much history, but because they knew exactly what the other was going through, and couldn't hide behind any of the pretence because they knew each other well enough to see through it.

Hermione sighed through her tears, "I don't want to do this again, Ginny. I want it to be up to… Someone else…"

"Me too." said Ginny sadly, "But this is what we are, Hermione. The war made us the best people to deal with this stuff. Why do you think McGonagall and Teodora spearheaded the concept of the _tovarasi_? Because we're the best people for it. All of us."

"But Harry and Ron should have been there too. They should have been part of the _tovarasi _too." Hermione said with a sniff.

"I know." Ginny responded quietly.

They sat like that for a while. Hermione knew that they should have been running down to the Burrow, she knew that every moment they spent sitting on the hill was a moment wasted, that with every passing second, Harry might be getting further and further beyond their help but she just could not bring herself to move. She needed that. She needed to just sit and be hugged by the one person who understood what she was feeling.

After few long minutes, Hermione pulled her head off Ginny's shoulder and wiped the tears off her cheeks with the sleeve of her jumper.

"Ginny, how are we going to find Ron?" she asked thickly. The question had been playing on her mind ever since she'd seen the memory.

To her surprise, the younger woman shifted uncomfortably. "We don't need to find him. He's here."

"What?!" Hermione hissed, "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because I thought if I did you wouldn't come!" Ginny hissed back. "He sent me an owl a few days ago. Don't ask me why he came back, he didn't tell me."

Hermione's head dropped into her arms and she groaned, her heart beating a taboo on her diaphragm. "Oh god… I'm so not ready for this…"

"Just remember why we're here, Hermione." said Ginny firmly and, to Hermione's alarm, she stood up, brushing the grass off her ass and legs. "Wait here. I'll go and get Ron. I don't want to wake mum. She'll freak out if she cottons on to any of this…"

Hermione nodded and Ginny strode away, down the hill, leaving her alone.

From the moment the younger woman disappeared into the house, Hermione could not take her eyes off the back door, waiting for the tall, familiar silhouette to emerge from the depths of the house.

She spent many minutes lost in her own thoughts as she stared down at the Burrow. She felt strangely calmed by the slight wind shifting the grass around her; it was stilling her frayed nerves. The sound of it, the feel of it on her skin all served to sooth her only slightly. But any soothing was welcome to her at that point.

It was like her emotions had compartmentalised themselves, divided equally between what she felt for Draco, what she felt for Ron, and what she felt for Harry. Each and every one of them included fear and sadness, but each had its own specific brand of the feeling. She was surprised to note that, all in all, she felt remarkably calm. Her Gryffindor courage was certainly showing its strength that night. For the first time in quite a while, she did not feel out of control or on the brink of a panic attack. Sure, her hands were shaking and her heart was beating like she'd just run to London and back, but she felt like all of this was ok, like it was normal. She was running on adrenalin.

It was like her whole body was poised for a fight, like she was ready for war.

And it must have been this instinct alone that had kicked in at that moment, torn her eyes away from the Burrow and caused her to leap to her feet. In one movement she whipped out her wand and swiftly cast a powerful shield charm around where she was standing.

She could have sworn she heard the sound of grass crunching under someone's foot right behind her. The wind might have been blowing in her ears but the sound was unmistakable.

Hermione wheeled around on the spot, her eyes boring through the darkness for any sign of a shadow, her ears straining to hear any further sound to confirm she was not alone on the dark hilltop. She needed that confirmation. She craved it.

But there was nothing, no sign of anyone and all she could think of right then was that Harry had an invisibility cloak. The thought of him standing there, watching her turn on the spot, made her blood run cold.

"Harry?" she called out on a whim. She couldn't just stand there and wait.

It was almost more chilling that she received no reply. For some reason, she was absolutely convinced that she wasn't alone.

"Harry, if you can hear me, we're going to fix this ok? We love you…" the wind whipped her words away.

"Hermione?" a voice called from behind her and she wheeled around to see Ron and Ginny approaching her at a run.

Suddenly a bright stream of light cracked and screamed against her shield charm, causing Hermione to start jarringly. She turned in the direction the spell had come from but she could not see anything.

Ron and Ginny thundered to a halt beside her and all three of them turned around and around, wands out, trying to see into the night. Another spell hit the shield, now from the opposite direction and all Hermione could think about was why Harry wasn't trying to kill them. He could have disintegrated the shield charm in moments if he'd wanted to and he knew as well as she did that it wouldn't stop any Unforgivables… But he wasn't doing any of that. Briefly, that thought that perhaps it wasn't Harry filtered through her mind, but she dashed it instantly. She felt in her guts that it was him. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her.

"Wait!" called Hermione to the other two, "It's a warning! He's trying to get us to leave!"

She didn't know where the thought had come from but for some reason, she knew she was right. He'd had ample opportunity to kill them, to hurt them, and he hadn't done it. It was the only other option…

But whatever control he had, he wouldn't keep it for long. She knew they had to get away.

"What about Mum and Dad and…?" cried Ron.

"He won't go near them!" Hermione cut across him.

"How do you know?!" he demanded.

"I just do!" she snapped, shrieking as another spell smacked into the shield, "Come on! We have to go!"

Ron seemed reluctant to move until Ginny cried, "We'll send the Aurors back to check on them, alright? Trust me, Ron! Please!"

After a tense moment, he nodded.

"Hold on to me!" said Hermione, offering him her hand. After a brief look that lasted about a tenth of a second, he complied. She felt Ginny grasp onto her shoulder.

Hermione dispersed the shield charm and disapparated.

* * *

The still silence that greeted them when they apparated into the courtyard out the back of the Leaky Cauldron seemed almost alien compared to the fizzing of spells and the whipping wind back at the Burrow.

Hermione immediately dropped Ron's hand and set off down the street at a sprint. She could hear the pounding footsteps of the other two following behind her.

As they approached Flourish and Blotts, Hermione was relieved to see light flooding out onto her balcony from her living room and a sizeable group of people moving around inside. The _tovarasi _had done their job.

She burst through the doors to the shop, raced into the storage room and pounding up the stairs with Ron and Ginny in tow. The front door of her flat opened before they reached it and Hermione flew into her living room.

She did not waste time looking around the room to see who was present, though at first glance it appeared to be not only the _tovarasi_ but also an entire battalion of Aurors. Her eyes found McGonagall.

"Harry was at the Burrow. The Weasleys might be in danger." she said breathlessly.

McGonagall looked to her left and Hermione almost gave a cry of shock to see Kingsley Shacklebolt emerge from the group. He nodded gruffly at the congregation of Aurors. Four broke ranks and raced out of her flat, no doubt headed for the Burrow.

"Would someone please tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" exclaimed Ron from behind her and Hermione turned to finally look at him.

If it were possible, he seemed almost taller than she remembered. His hair had grown out a little and he had the half shaven, grubby look of someone who had just returned from a very long holiday. She was so unbelievably grateful for his presence in that moment that all she wanted to do was hug him.

"There's an eighth Horcrux." said Hermione instead, "Voldemort's wand. Harry has it. It's possessing him."

"How do you know?" asked Ron and Hermione cringed. She'd been hoping to avoid that question.

"That would be because of me." said a voice from behind her and Hermione wheeled around. She hadn't noticed him before, but there he was, leaning in the doorway of her bedroom with Auror Watson hovering behind him.

Hermione's vision quite literally blurred with rage. She couldn't believe that Isobel had done that to her, that she'd allowed him to stay. The younger girl was standing a little to his left, looking at Hermione defiantly.

She knew that she should have been more mature in the moment, that there were more important matters at hand, but she quite simply could not hold onto her fury. Her hand found her wand and several members of the room gasped in shock.

"What did I say?" she snarled at Isobel. "Why is he here?!"

Isobel looked warily at Hermione's wand and crossed her arms. "I think you should listen to him, Hermione."

"Fuck that." said Hermione bluntly. Her wand arm rose, pointing directly at Draco but Ron grasped her arm and wrenched it back down, stepping in front of her and obscuring her view.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" he asked quietly, looking at her as if he'd never met her before.

"I'm going to torture that little death eater shit until he squeals." she growled.

Ron visibly balked. "Ok, you and I need to have a talk. Come on."

He grasped her arm and, ignoring the protests of the rest of the room's inhabitants, dragged her past Draco and into the bedroom.

The door slammed closed behind them.

* * *

A/N Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter to you lovelies! I went on a coast trip that was supposed to be two days and ended up being a week. All the same is was... Breathtaking. Mind blowing. Expect better writing from here on out! And I'll be back to posting regularly from now on. Only 7 chapters left! Eep!

Much love and light,

Desdemona.


	34. Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

LITTLE PLASTIC CASTLE

_"People talk about my image like I come in two dimensions."_

Hermione stared at Ron as he walked past her and sunk down on the bed, feeling uneasy now that they were alone in the room together. His face fell into his hands. She could not decide what she wanted to do, whether to return to the lounge room and curse Draco into oblivion or to stay and talk to Ron. Both desires were equally strong but, as usual, her anger won out.

Her hand was almost on the doorknob when he finally looked up at her. "You cut your hair." he said simply.

Hermione shook her head, looking away from him sadly, "No, Harry did it."

"What?"

"He… He came here a few months ago and stayed for a few days. He tied me up. One night I woke up and he was cutting all my hair off." she said simply, knowing that the ordeal deserved a longer and more complicated explanation than that but she couldn't be bothered.

Ron was staring at her incredulously. "Why didn't you come and find me sooner?" he demanded. "If you knew Harry was losing it, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you wanted to be found." she replied quietly.

"Is that what you think of me, Hermione? You think I'd just turn my back on you like that?" he asked, his voice pained. "We've been friends for eight years…"

Hermione stared at him disbelievingly, her mouth opening and closing dumbly. "But… But you let me leave the Burrow! You didn't talk to me for months! Why _wouldn't _I think that?!"

"Well it's not like you tried to talk to me either!" he bit back.

"What?! I did!" she said shrilly.

"When?"

"Before I left!"

He scoffed, "Yeah, one conversation on the stairs. And even then, it wasn't really a conversation, was it?! You never told me how you felt, didn't tell me what you were thinking! You were quiet too!"

"You never asked!" she yelled in indignation.

"Do I really have to?! Isn't that what relationships are about?! Not _having _to ask?!" he was shouting now.

Hermione realised then that a part of what he was saying was right. When had her relationship with Draco started to go downhill? When she'd stopped talking to him about her feelings or about what she was thinking. Just like it had with Ron.

A painful truth was hitting her. She'd spent the last eight months blaming Ron for their breakup, thinking that it was _his _silence that had broken it; and then afterwards she'd gone right ahead and blamed Draco for their problems too. Never at any point had she stopped to consider that maybe _she _might have had a part to play, that it might have been as much her fault as it was theirs and that she might have been able to do something about it.

But it was too late now. Ron was clearly over her and Draco had betrayed her. She couldn't do anything about it anymore. Except…

"I'm sorry." she said almost as soon as the thought had hit her.

Ron looked at her blankly. "For what?"

"For not talking to you. I should have tried harder."

He grimaced and stood. "Don't beat yourself up, Hermione. I did it too. I really wasn't trying to say it was all your fault… I should have tried harder as well."

She nodded and he moved towards her. Before she could do anything, he was wrapping his long arms around her body and her senses were completely over taken by his scent. She hugged him back. There was nothing sexual about it; the hug wasn't even loving, really. It was just an acknowledgement of all that had passed between them, of all they'd been through.

After a moment, she pulled away and Ron gave her a reassuring smile that actually reassured her.

"So, you wanna catch me up then?" he asked seriously, sitting back down on the bed. "What's going on with Malfoy? Why is he even here?"

Hermione wanted the ground to swallow her up. For a moment, she contemplated launching herself out of her balcony window. Instead, she stole herself against the imminently approaching disaster and took a deep breath, feeling that there was no possible way around being completely honest.

"We are… We _were _together." she said shakily.

Ron's head snapped up to look at her and she cringed instinctually. She'd never seen him look so angry.

"_What_?" he snarled menacingly and stood up. Hermione felt real fear as he towered over her.

"We were in a relationship." she said sheepishly.

His eyes pressed closed and his fists clenched. "How long?" he ground out.

"Since New Year's." she replied.

He inhaled sharply, his left hand rubbing at his chest as if he was in pain. "Did you sleep together?" he asked, finally looking at her. His voice was suddenly far too calm.

Hermione could not bring herself to say the word and so she simply nodded.

To her distress, he did not react to this in anger. Instead, his shoulders rose and fell with his laboured breath and tears began spilling over his cheeks.

Hermione felt her heart break as her own tears moved down her face. She stepped forward tentatively. "Don't cry…" she begged.

"WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO!?" he bellowed and she shrank back.

A very familiar silence fell on them then when she could not bring herself to respond. It felt so similar to the silence she'd shared with Draco only hours earlier that it made her head spin. Of course she felt guilty, and of course she wished she could have avoided telling him. But there was nothing for it really. She'd rather he find out from her than someone else, rather it was her than Draco.

In the end, she knew she couldn't do anything to help Ron in that moment. She wasn't going to tell him that it had meant nothing because it had. It had meant everything. She wasn't going to say she didn't love Draco, because she did and he'd broken her heart.

But ultimately, the situation wasn't about her and Draco and Ron. It was about Harry. And getting caught up in their many and varied emotional dramas was just putting off the inevitable. Hell, she might be dead within the day…

She needed to sort out her priorities.

"Look," she said after a long while, "Let's just… Let's just put this on the backburner for now, alright?" Ron's head rose to glare at her in disbelief and she almost flinched again before continuing, "I know how awful that sounds and I know this usually wouldn't be something we could just put off but… We need to think about Harry. He's in danger. We can talk about this once… Once he's safe."

After a moment, Ron nodded and buried his fists into his eyes, wiping away his tears.

"Alright." he took a deep breath, "Alright… Harry…" he looked at her and Hermione could almost visibly see him repressing all of his emotions. "I need you to tell me everything." he said firmly.

Hermione nodded and tried to control her breathing to absolutely no effect. Where could she start? She knew Ron would not rest until he knew every last detail. He needed to hear it from the beginning and, after a moment of thought; she decided the beginning was with the _tovarasi_. And so she launched into her story, telling him about their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, about how she'd tried to use the _cruciatus _curse on herself and what her comrades had done to save her. She skimmed over the gory details, like the pain she'd experienced and dragging Isobel from the lake, but she highlighted their connectedness, the bond she shared with the _tovarasi_, even the Slytherins. She told him about the Dividing Line, about how she'd discovered it, the book Draco had given her and about Grindelwald's contribution. She talked about her experience with Harry, how he'd acted and what he'd done. She told him about the _Zeitei Otrava _and moving into Draco's mind, about the memory and the wand. She stopped short at Draco's betrayal.

Ron listened attentively, nodding and throwing questions at her every now and then. And when she was done, all he could do was look at her blindly. For once, she could see her own panic mirrored in his face.

"So, we have to find Harry essentially." he said intensely.

"Yes."

"And what then…? Do we… Do we have to kill him?" he asked quietly.

Hermione felt the question burn through her body and said intensely, "I hope not."

Ron nodded and began pacing backwards and forwards across her bedroom. "Do you know where he might be?"

Hermione recognised the look on his face. It was time for strategy.

"I have a few ideas." she replied. "The forest of Dean, Godric's Hollow and Grimauld place to name the likeliest."

"Well we'll have to start searching those places. Though I don't know how we're going to find him if he wants to be hidden. He knows how to move without being seen…" said Ron wearily.

"I actually think I might be able to get around that. I could take the _Zeitei Otrava_. I think I'd probably be able to see him then, even if he's wearing the cloak."

Ron looked sceptical at first but eventually nodded. "Alright. Well… Shall we go?"

"Definitely." said Hermione firmly. There was fear in her heart, of course, but she was grateful to finally be able to fly into action, to try and steady this teetering house of cards and stop the wizarding world from falling into another war.

She turned around and opened the door to her bedroom.

It felt like exiting a protective bubble as she stepped into the lounge room with Ron behind her. The room was full to capacity, though there appeared to be significantly less Aurors present than at first. The _tovarasi_ were all there, as well as Professor McGonagall, Teodora and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Hermione braced herself and opened her mouth so that she might fill everyone present in on the situation but Malfoy pre-empted her.

"I've already told them everything." he said and she felt a stab in her stomach to note that there was not a hint of emotion in his voice.

Hermione ignored him. "Ron and I have a few ideas about where Harry might be." she said to the room at large.

"Aurors have already been sent to all possible locations." Kingsley rumbled from the other side of the room.

"With all due respect, Minister, I don't think that will do much good except to have him retreat further into hiding." said Hermione shakily. "If Harry doesn't want to be found, he won't be."

"What do you suggest?" asked the Minister dryly.

"Well… As I'm sure Malfoy has already told you, I have a potion that enables me to see magic. I think that while under its influence, I should be able to see Harry even if he's under his cloak."

"Well hand it over then. I will dispatch some to the Aurors." said Kingsley, as if this were obvious.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry sir, but it's blood magic. Only Malfoy and I can take it."

Kingsley's eyes narrowed and he looked between Hermione and Malfoy sceptically. "So you are suggesting that I send two underqualified people out into the field to track down a mass murderer?" he asked incredulously.

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting." she replied firmly.

Malfoy scoffed. "If you think I'm going out to…"

"You know as well as I do that I can't take the potion without you around, Malfoy." she snarled, cutting him off, "You're coming with us, even if I have to fucking drag you."

He glared at her but said nothing.

"I would consider it a crime against the Ministry should you refuse, Mr Malfoy." Kingsley growled though his face suggested he was almost lost in his own thoughts. "Very well, Hermione, you and Ron can go and help the Auror's search."

Hermione grimaced. "Again… I'm sorry minister but I think it might have to be just me, Ron and Malfoy."

This statement was met with many cries of outrage from the _tovarasi_ and the remaining Aurors, but Hermione spoke over them.

"Last time Harry was confronted with a group larger than three, he disapparated before we could do anything! I think he'll try and avoid a battle if he can. But if it's just the three of us, he might think he stands a chance." she said, yelling to be heard over the clamouring voices of her comrades.

"This is out of the question!" said McGonagall incredulously.

"I think I must agree." said Teodora firmly.

Hermione looked at Kingsley imploringly, "Please, Minister. I know Harry and I know Voldemort. Trust me. We can do this. There really isn't any other option."

Eventually, much to the outrage of the rest of the room's occupants, Kingsley sighed and nodded. "Very well. But you will tell me where you plan on going. I will make sure that there are a group of Auror's stationed nearby should you get into any trouble."

"Thank you Minister." said Hermione and once again, the voices of her comrades rose in indignation.

She turned to look at Ron, but he was glaring at Malfoy as if ready to break his pale neck with his own hands.

"So what'll it be, Malfoy? Will I be dragging you or are you coming quietly?" he asked, looking very much like he'd prefer the former.

Malfoy gave him a look of deepest loathing before raising his hands in apparent submission. "I wouldn't want to give you the satisfaction of dragging me, Weasley."

Ron looked as if he might say something cutting in reply to this but Hermione cut across him. "Alright! So where do you think we should go first?"

He shrugged, "Godric's Hollow I reckon. Seems the most likely."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"I will have Aurors stationed nearby within the hour." said Kingsley, pulling out his wand.

"Thank you." she responded. She made to walk back into the bedroom to retrieve her beaded bag but Isobel stopped her.

"Wait, what?! This is happening tonight?!" there was a hysterical edge to her voice.

Hermione glared at the younger girl, "Do you have a better alternative?" she asked coldly.

Isobel cowered under Hermione's mean stare and eventually shook her head, looking stricken. But Hermione didn't care. As far as she was concerned, Isobel had betrayed her. She didn't have time to cater to the younger girl's feelings when Isobel had so recklessly ignored hers earlier.

"I don't like this…" said Juliet uneasily. "I don't like just sitting here and waiting."

"Me neither." said Padma fervently.

Hermione tried to resist rolling her eyes, the delay frustrating her.

"I've an idea." said Luna suddenly speaking up from her position perched on the arm of the lounge. "We'll know if either Hermione or Draco are hurt, won't we? Because of the _tovarasi_ bond. Why don't we go _with_ the Aurors? That way, if there's trouble; Hermione won't have to call for help because we'll already know… Then we don't have to sit here, waiting for news."

The members of the _tovarasi_ looked jubilant and began jumping to their feet to prepare to leave. The remaining Aurors looked sceptical and unsure and Professor McGonagall said frustratedly, "Oh for heaven's sake…"

Kingsley stared around at the fresh flurry of activity wearily and said, almost to himself, "So now I'm sending not three but eleven unqualified witches and wizards out into the field…"

"Looks like it!" said Eli with a grin, donning his cloak.

* * *

Half an hour later, Hermione, Malfoy and Ron were striding down Diagon Alley in absolute silence. The street was dark, only lit by the light of the moon, but not as dark as the heavy atmosphere hanging around the trio. Ron was clearly furious, Draco was sulking and Hermione was shaking. She knew the silence would not last long, knew exactly why Ron was so angry and sort of understood Draco's sourness. It was all defence mechanisms. Ultimately, she knew that both of them were scared and hurting and this was how they were dealing with it. But those defence mechanisms would crumble eventually.

As for herself, she felt a whole myriad of conflicting emotions. She was sort of angry at both of them, really. Draco's betrayal was stinging and bleeding like an open wound in her chest and her old heartbreak over Ron was festering unpleasantly. She didn't want to be there. She wanted to be as far from both of them as possible. They were only making her feel worse.

She felt childishly resentful that neither of them were even try to comfort her.

Ron was understandably in a huge amount of pain, so she got his coldness to some degree, but what did he expect her to do? She'd left the Burrow and he'd disappeared off the face of the earth for nine months. Was she supposed to sit around pining for him? Waiting for him to decide to love her again? Shouldn't he be happy that she'd made an attempt to move on and fix her life? Even if it had failed in the end, she'd still tried.

And then there was Draco. He should have been prostrating himself at her feet, should have been begging for her forgiveness. Not that she'd give it even if he did, not in the least. But he still should have been sorry. He wasn't acting sorry. Now more than ever she was seeing the petulant, spoilt, scowling brat that she'd gone to school with for the past eight years. She had to wonder where the other Draco she knew had gone. What happened to the kind, sensitive, compassionate man she'd lost her virginity to? Where was the brave Draco that had pulled her from the lake? The loyal, caring Draco that had cared for her after what had happened with Harry? Where was he? This person striding along beside her was none of those things. The person beside her was Draco the Death Eater, Draco, Lucius's son… It made her chest ache just looking at him. It tore her apart when he looked back at her and she got to see firsthand all of his former tenderness and love for her gone from his eyes.

But this is what Voldemort did. He tore people apart.

Again, Hermione found her resilience. She wanted this over, wanted to return to her life and pick up the pieces. She would fight until she had that back, until she could feel safe again in her own home.

They reached the Leaky Cauldron and Hermione wordlessly grasped both Draco and Ron's arms before turning them all into darkness.

* * *

It was odd seeing Godric's Hollow not covered in a soft white blanket of snow. The village had a very earthy feel, like it was hewn from natural stone even though she knew it hadn't been. There was a sort of wise feeling to the magic that hung about the place.

Hermione stole herself against the onrushing memories of the last time she'd visited the little town and made to move forwards.

"Wait!" hissed Draco, grasping her arm, "Should we not try and hide ourselves even a little?" he asked, all of the petulant sulking gone from his face to be replaced by a very Slytherin like taught attentiveness.

Hermione nodded reluctantly, feeling a tad embarrassed that she hadn't thought of it herself. "How?" she asked.

"Polyjuice Potion?" suggested Ron, "We don't have the cloak anymore so…"

Draco gave him a look of pure condescension, as if he was attempting to have a conversation with an over excited ape. "Disillusionment Charms." he said simply.

"Oh! Right." said Ron, his face turning slightly red.

Draco looked between the two of them expectantly for a moment, waiting for them to cast their spells.

Hermione felt her cheeks burn as she said, "We never really learnt them… Because we always had the cloak…"

Draco actually laughed at this and shook his head disbelievingly. Without another word, he pulled out his wand and tapped both Ron and Hermione on the head with it before casting the charm on himself.

"How do we not lose each other?" asked Ron's disembodied voice.

Hermione felt Draco's fingers slide into her palm, making the skin all over her body tingle, and said, "We hold hands. Come here."

A moment later, her other hand was cocooned by a much larger one and she felt the insane urge to cackle as both Draco and Ron clung to her. The urge was swiftly overtaken by total anguish. Once again she was seized with the desire to run. She hated this.

Without further ado, the three of them marched into the village, occasionally whispering instructions or warnings to each other. They passed the tribute statue to Harry's parents and moved towards the lane where Hermione knew the half destroyed house to be. When they reached it, the place had that air of being entirely untouched and she knew even then that while Harry had definitely been there, he wasn't there now. Unlike the last time she'd seen it, the three of them went inside but only as far as the hallway before Hermione cast _Homenum Revelio _and established that they were indeed the only people in the house. She wasn't shocked really; it was the most obvious choice in the end.

Wordlessly, they left the house and walked back towards the outskirts of the village. Once there, Hermione sent her otter patronus off towards where she thought the Aurors and the _tovarasi _might be stationed with a message telling them that her, Draco and Ron had found nothing and that they were about to move on to Grimauld Place and would give them a head start of ten minutes.

They did not have to wait long before Ginny's glowing horse materialised and told them that they were all in position.

Hermione once again grasped Draco and Ron's hands and apparated almost directly onto the weather beaten doorstep of number twelve, Grimauld place. The square was as dark as Godric's Hollow and had the somewhat familiar eerie feeling she usually associated with it.

With a heave, she opened the front door and a rush of musty air hit their faces. Draco and Ron followed her a couple of steps into the hallway before it happened.

Her tongue rolled up in her mouth and the dusk on the carpet began to swirl up into the air. The ghostly figure of Albus Dumbledore flew towards them alarmingly. Hermione, knowing what to expect, waited for the tongue tying spell to dissipate before she mumbled, "I didn't kill you, Professor."

The dust figure burst into nothingness and Hermione took a few more steps into the dimly light hallway, holding her wand aloft. She walked further and further down until she came to the end and almost smiled when she saw the dusty red curtains covering Sirius' mother's portrait. It was then that she realised that she was not being followed by her two companions.

She wheeled around to see Draco backing towards the door, staring at the spot where the ghostly figure had just been, a look of total, unadulterated terror on his face. Ron was trying to push him further into the house but Draco wouldn't have any of it.

Hermione jogged back down the hallway towards them.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a clipped tone.

"I'm not going any further!" said Draco, his voice high and frightened, eyes still glue to the dusty patch of carpet. "Just cast the fucking charm and let's go!"

Hermione realised then what seeing that must have done to him. Of course Ron wouldn't understand, but she did. She knew Draco. His guilt was his worst enemy and seeing a ghostly spectre of Albus Dumbledore would have been beyond awful for him. She was amazed that he wasn't a blubbering mess on the floor.

Because of this, she did not roll her eyes or say anything remotely sarcastic as Ron was doing, she just turned around, pointed her wand down the hallway and said, "_Homenum Revelio_."

Her heart gave a great lurch in her chest when suddenly, the tip of her wand glowed blue and her hand began to tingle.

"There's someone here." she said over her shoulder, "In the kitchen I think…"

Draco groaned but pulled out his wand none the less.

The three of them tiptoed down the corridor, the musty silence heavy in their ears. They reached the door to the kitchen and spent a few minutes listening hard. What she heard, was something she was not expecting.

"Is… is that someone crying?" whispered Hermione bemusedly with her ear pressed up against the door.

Ron nodded, frowning, "I don't think it's Harry though. Too high pitched."

Hermione laid her hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. As the door opened a crack, the sobbing became louder but there was no attack. Wand arm first, she peeked into the room. It was empty.

She allowed the door to swing open entirely so that Ron and Draco could see too. The kitchen looked much the same as it always had aside from a thick layer of dust.

Hermione wandered further into the room towards the sound of the sobbing, realising as she did that is was coming from the cupboard under the boiler. She knelt down and slowly opened the door.

Kreacher was lying on a pile of rags, curled up into a ball and making the most pathetic little keening noises Hermione had ever heard. She dispersed the Disillusionment Charm so that the elf could see her.

Ron and Draco appeared behind her, both freshly visible. Draco made a disgusted noise at the sight of the house elf and Ron said in surprise, "Kreacher?"

The little elf's head shot up and he visibly cringed when he was the three of them standing there, his wailing reaching new heights of despair.

"It's alright Kreacher!" said Hermione frantically. "I won't hurt you!"

The elf seemed not in the least bit comforted by her words.

"What happened, Kreacher?" asked Ron kindly.

The elf looked up at him, his giant eyes swimming with tears. "Master Harry has asked Kreacher to do a very bad thing, but Kreacher won't sir, he won't!" he cried, throwing his head against the wall of the cupboard with each word. "Master Harry has always told Kreacher that the Dark Lord is evil, he has taught Kreacher to be a better elf and now he tells Kreacher to forget all that! He tells Kreacher he was lying!"

"What did he ask you to do?" asked Hermione fearfully.

The elf shook his head, his hands clamping over his mouth.

"It's alright, we can help Kreacher. Master Harry is… is very sick. We need to know what he told you so that we can help him!" said Hermione.

Kreacher looked at her for a long time and she could almost see the gears in his tiny head ticking, trying to find a loop hole. "Master Harry is sick?"

"Yes." said Ron.

"And if Kreacher tells you what he knows, you will heal him?" the elf asked desperately.

"Yes."

The elf looked away from them and stared off into space for a moment. "Kreacher must tell the truth to save his master. Yes…" he sat up a little straighter and looked back at the trio, "Master Harry wishes Kreacher to gather the Dark Lord's remaining followers. Those who were not sent to Azkaban."

Hermione gasped and sat down heavily on the floor. She'd hoped it hadn't gotten that far.

But the elf wasn't finished. "He also told Kreacher to find Miss Hermione and… And…" the elf began to cry again, "And to bring him her blood!" Hermione's stomach turned as the elf keeled over sideways and wailed like a wounded animal. "But Kreacher will not do it! Miss Hermione is a friend! Kreacher will not!"

Hermione looked at Ron and Draco, both were ashen faced and appeared terrified.

"Do you know where he is, Kreacher?" asked Ron urgently.

After a few tense moments, the elf nodded. "Master Harry told Kreacher to find him in the forest of Dean."

Hermione leapt to her feet, a fierce sense of triumph driving through her body. Harry had seemed to be a step ahead of them at every point since she'd gone to the Burrow. But now, Kreacher had turned it around. She knew where he was, she knew the exact place.

"Kreacher, find Professor McGonagall and tell her everything you've just told us. She'll protect you." Hermione told the elf as Ron and Draco stared at her, one in fear and the other in determination. "We have to go."

With a final sniff, the elf disapparated.

Minutes later, the trio were tearing out of the house and into the square to find the _tovarasi_ and a group of Aurors waiting for them. Ginny rushed forwards.

"Was he there?! Did you find him?!" she cried frantically.

Hermione shook her head, knowing that they must have felt her jubilation, "No. But we know where he is." she told them about all that Kreacher had said.

"Why do you think he was after your blood?" asked Blaise once she'd finished.

Hermione shrugged, but deep down all she could picture were the scattered texts of blood magic he'd been reading all those months ago. She looked across at Draco who was frowning and had the strangest feeling that he was thinking the same thing. He'd been the one who'd cleaned up Harry's mess after all.

"What time is it?" asked Ron suddenly.

One of the Aurors, a tall dark woman with black dreadlocks said, "Almost four am."

"I think we should get some sleep." said Ron firmly.

As he said it, Hermione finally felt her own exhaustion but she refused to give up when they were so close to finding Harry. "What are you talking about?!" she demanded, "We can't stop now!"

"He's right, Hermione." said Padma. "We're all tired. Your reactions will be off and if you're facing V-voldemort… You need all the help you can get."

Hermione noticed Draco flinch at the sound of his lord's name.

"Come on, Harry isn't going anywhere. By the sounds of it, he'll stick around the forest of Dean until he hears from Kreacher." said Ron.

Without waiting for her to answer, he grasped onto her arm and apparated her into the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. A series of pops announced the arrival of the rest of the group. Together, they walked up the street towards her flat. Ron's hand remained squarely on the small of her back, steering her to their destination.

She really was tired… If she was honest, she could barely walk straight. The lure of her four poster bed was too much to resist.

When they entered the flat, Professor McGonagall, Teodora and the Minister were all gone. A collection of Aurors elected to stay behind and stand guard while the _tovarasi_ refused point blank to leave her alone in her flat. And so it was that Hermione found herself alone in the kitchen with eleven mugs, five of which had to be transfigured from cutlery, set out in front of her as she prepared the tea for her comrades and Ron.

She was almost scared at being left alone for too long, terrified that her repressed emotions would come bubbling to the surface of her mind and cripple her.

But they never did. She was too tired to invest properly in her feelings. Sure, it was all there, all the fear and defeat and despair and hurt but she couldn't bring herself to be demonstrative about any of it. She just wanted to have her cup of tea and go to bed.

Suddenly, someone appeared next to her, dropping teaspoons of sugar into the assembled mugs wordlessly. She recognised those hands.

"What are you doing?" she asked wearily, aware of the slight growl in her voice.

"I'm helping you." Draco replied simply.

"Why are you still here?"

"I live here." he responded, and she could finally hear the emotion in his tone. He sounded tired. He sounded sad.

"Not anymore." said Hermione cuttingly.

He turned his head to look at her for a long while before saying, "I'm helping aren't I? Isn't this what you wanted?"

Hermione scoffed and shook her head resignedly. "You don't understand, do you Draco? Honestly, I don't think you ever will. You were faced with a question, a choice. And as far as I am concerned, if the answer to it wasn't immediately obvious, then that's all I need to know. Your loyalties may not lie with Voldemort, you may have just been scared, but the problem is, your loyalties don't lie with me either. You have no allegiance."

He frowned, a pained and wounded look. "I don't know what to say…" he said quietly.

Hermione smiled sadly and pushed a cup of tea into his hands. "Again, if it isn't immediately obvious, then that's good enough for me."

She collected a couple of mugs in her hands and walked past him, into the lounge room.

She knew then that that was exactly what she'd needed to say all along. And now that she'd said it, she didn't think there was anything she'd need to say to Draco Malfoy ever again.

* * *

A/N Wow! Lot's of guest reviews this week! Usually, I online reply via messaging but what the hell haha.

For one, one of you called me mister! Very much NOT a mister just so you know :D

Secondly, thanks so much for all of the lovely support! Every morning I wake up and check my emails and it just gives me this warm little glow when I see all of your reviews. It's a really special feeling, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Much love,

Desdemona

P.S Get used to the cliffhangers hehehe


	35. Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

SHAMELESS

_"This is my skeleton; this is the skin it's in, that is, according to light and gravity."_

When Hermione finally went to bed, she opted to bunk with Isobel, despite their earlier animosity. She needed someone close to her and Isobel was the next best thing aside from Ron or Draco, neither of which were an option. So it was with a great deal of reluctance that she had grudgingly asked if Isobel would share her bed that night. The younger girl had looked relieved and agreed instantaneously. The rest of the _tovarasi _and Ron were to sleep on the conjured bunks that now covered her lounge and bedroom floors.

They did not talk as they usually would have after they'd snuggled down under the covers. Hermione was too tired. But she appreciated the warmth.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione was wide awake by ten as she was simply unable to make herself sleep anymore. She knew that five and a half hours was almost too little to work with but the moment her eyes opened, her mind began racing again.

There was not much dialogue between the tired _tovarasi_ that morning and it was with minimal conversation and only a rudimentary amount of planning that Hermione, Ron and Draco left the flat to go to the Forest of Dean, soon to be followed by the rest of their comrades and the group of Aurors.

Hermione could feel her blood singing with an anticipatory determination as the three of them walked purposefully down the crowded street of Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron. It was a familiar feeling by then, the need to get the task over and done with, to bring Harry back to safety, to stay alive, to prevent another war. It was like greeting an old friend.

The previous night's conversation with Draco was still playing on loop in the back of her mind and it was while she walked that she spent time trying to decide what she thought of it.

Ultimately she'd meant what she'd said. Of course, her fiery anger with him had dissipated slightly over the intervening days, but she still felt the sting of his betrayal as if it were fresh.

And that was the thing. He may not have realised it, but the previous night she'd given him another chance. She'd told him she thought she did not have his loyalty and he had failed the test when he had not tried to tell her she did. He'd not attempted to deny any of the things she'd said and that led her to believe that he did truly have no allegiance. Really, she was fine with that in peace time, he didn't need his allegiance then, and she didn't need his loyalty. But when her life was in danger, when the lives of all her friends were threatened, his loyalty was vital.

She couldn't be with someone who could turn the other cheek when there was the possibility she might get hurt. Maybe some women could do that, maybe some of them could stay with men like that, but she couldn't. She knew her flaws, could acknowledge her stubbornness and her quick temper, she wasn't perfect, but that didn't mean she needed disrespect herself. Surely she deserved better than that? Surely she could do better than spending the rest of her life with a man who could drop her like a used napkin when his own life was threatened… What if they had children? Would they be expected to die to protect their father? The thought made her feel sick.

None of that changed her feelings though. She still missed him, even though he was walking beside her. She still wished she'd never seen the memory and that they could go back to the way they were. But had that been all that good really? She stopped to consider for a moment that yes, of course it seemed better than the predicament she was in now, but all the same, she hadn't exactly been happy. And partly that had been her fault, she'd been withdrawing further and further into herself as the weeks had dragged on; but it had also been Draco. She recalled then, with pain, the feeling of him no longer finding her interesting enough to care about her sadness. When they'd first gotten together, she was something new, something outside of him that he could study and appreciate. But then, as they'd gotten used to each other, there had been that uncomfortable realisation that things were essentially exactly the same. They'd both felt it and they'd both reacted to it.

She wasn't going to shame herself or him, neither one of them deserved the blame for the disintegration of their relationship. Not even considering Draco's betrayal. Ultimately, he hadn't really betrayed her; he'd betrayed himself, which was somehow worse. She'd thought he was stronger than that.

She sighed as the three of them reached the Leaky Cauldron. It was all so _messy_. Hermione reached out both her hands for the two boys to take. Once they did, she apparated them away.

The contrast between the sludgy greys of Diagon Alley and the greens and browns of the Forest of Dean was somewhat startling. It was a place that was distantly familiar to her as she'd apparated them straight into the clearing that had been used as their campsite all that time ago. She could almost see Perkins' shabby canvas tent sitting up on the rise to her left.

Instantly, the three of them dropped to the ground, crouching in the scrub and looking about themselves. Hermione felt a tap on the top of her head and turned just in time to see Draco cast a disillusionment charm on her before moving on to Ron. She nodded gratefully before she remembered he could no longer see her. Instead, she touched his knee briefly to communicate her gratitude. He stiffened a little at the contact.

"So how do we do this?" asked Ron's disembodied voice quietly.

"I think I might have to take the potion, honestly. I don't see _Homenum Revelio _working too well out in the open…" she whispered in reply, groping for her beaded bag which was slung over her shoulder.

Neither Ron nor Draco responded to this as Hermione produced one of the tiny vials of the _Zeitei Otrava _and uncorked it.

"Are you sure it will work if I'm not taking it too?" whispered Draco.

"I guess we'll have to find out." she replied, shrugging. She tipped the contents of the vial down her throat. Instantly, the colour bled out of the world. "Yep. It works."

"Well let's go then." said Ron and she heard the crunch of grass as she stood up.

"Wait. It takes a moment to kick in." Draco whispered.

Hermione sat for a moment, staring around at the bleak, grey landscape, waiting for the colour she'd become so familiar with to bloom in her vision.

Just as she expected, the light and colour burst into being in front of her. But no matter how familiar she was with it, the sight still made her gasp. Hermione took a few minutes to allow her eyes to adjust as she looked around. The low hanging green mist she was used to was not there, as they were not on a Dividing Line, but there seemed to be a soft glow emanating from the forest, pulsing like a heartbeat. It brought into sharp relief the fact that the environment was alive. It was beautiful.

She cast her eyes across to Ron and Draco who, she was not surprised to discover, were no longer invisible. It was as if the soft blues of their auras penetrated the Disillusionment charms and made them ineffective. Strangely, the strand that hung between her and Draco was still there, though it looked almost tattered, faded and she was shocked to see that there was a strand that connected her and Ron as well, one that looked just as damaged as her and Draco's. She had to wonder what had them connected like that; was it the physical relationship she'd shared with both men? The love? The vulnerability? But before her mind got too buried in these thoughts, she pushed them away; there were more pressing things to worry about.

"Alright. Let's go." she said, and stood. "You two walk and I'll follow. I can see you both so it will make it easier."

Draco and Ron both stood and strode out of the scrub in which they had all been taking refuge. Hermione felt uncomfortably exposed out in the open even though she was hidden by the Disillusionment charm.

As Draco moved ahead of her, Hermione saw occasional flashes of yellow moving across his back and she remembered his charmed cloak. She'd never asked him about it.

The thought was driven from her mind though as the two boys began to push through the forest and Hermione was forced to correct them when they set off in opposite directions. Eventually she insisted that they each hold on to separate ends of a scarf that she produced from her beaded bag so that they would not move too far away from one another.

For a long time, the trio walked in silence aside from the crunching twigs under their feet. They were not heading in any particular direction, but just ambling through the trees in the hope that they might stumble across something. Hermione's head was constantly whipping this way and that, looking for any sign of magic but she found nothing. They were alone.

She found it hard not to get caught up in the brilliance of the forest under the influence of the _Zeitei Otrava_. It felt like she was walking through a dream, something that was both unexplainably natural but also so beautiful it could not possibly be of this earth.

It felt wrong, but Hermione could not help but allow herself to smile as she looked around at the forest. She could have stayed in that place forever.

But slowly, she began to notice the glowing of the trees was fading. She hadn't been paying attention to the time and the hour was almost up.

"Hold on." she said to the other two and they both wheeled around, staring in her general direction with alarm, clearly assuming that she'd seen something. "It's alright, I just… The potion is wearing off."

"So take more." said Ron simply, "He's here somewhere, we can't quit now."

"But _Bastet's Line _doesn't say anything about double dosing." said Draco, sounding anxious.

Hermione frowned, "I don't see any harm in it…" she said uncertainly. If she was honest with herself, she just didn't want the experience to stop, didn't want to leave behind the beauty of the forest for the rain soaked Diagon Alley and her dull flat.

Before either Draco or Ron could protest, and before her mind could conjure more reasons not to take a second dose, she withdrew another vial from her bag, uncorked it and threw the contents down her throat.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, nothing continued to happen.

"It's alright." she said with a relieved sigh as the colour sharpened again as if she'd only freshly taken the potion, "I feel fine."

She began to walk towards the two boys, slightly ahead of her, stumbled and then fell face first into the leaves that littered the forest floor. Her heart hammered around inside her chest cavity as her vision blanked out totally, leaving her blind. Something was burning through her entire body, tearing its way through every fleshy muscle and pulsating vein. Her bones felt like they were contorting in on themselves, she could almost hear them snapping.

"Hermione?!" cried Ron and she could hear his footsteps thudding around where her body lay. She could not speak, her mouth opened but no breath or words came out. "HERMIONE! Where is she?! Malfoy! Reverse the Disillusionment charms!"

"I can't unless I touch her, you moron!" snapped Draco in response and she could hear his distress.

They continued to bite at each other until their voices and thumping footsteps droned out into fuzz. All Hermione could see was blackness, all she could hear was white noise. And her other senses were beginning to fade too. The taste of that morning's tea in her mouth was turning to ash. The feeling of the hard ground under her body was falling away, as if she was floating. And the smell of the leaf litter was dulling.

She was surely dying. What she was experiencing was obviously her body shutting down… But then why did she feel so _awake_? So _alive_?

Suddenly, painfully, something collided with her body and all of those senses came rushing back one by one. But they were more terrifying, more potent than she'd ever experienced them.

"I've found her!" cried Draco's voice and not only could she hear his every breath as if it was right in her ear but she could also, quite literally, _hear _his emotions. They were so beyond complex, so much more than simple words like 'sad' or 'angry' that her mind could find no way to articulate any of it. They were a confusing mass of fire and ice and all that _pain_… It overwhelmed her.

She felt the magic of the Disillusionment charm hanging over her body lift and finally, she found she could open her eyes. Both Draco and Ron were standing over her, but their faces were closer than they should have been and she could tell that they were no longer hidden by the charms Draco had cast earlier. She was able to see all of the intricate patterns of magic glowing underneath their skin, almost like cave carvings, every inch of their faces looked like the most beautiful canvas of abstract expressionism.

"Hermione." said Ron, slowly and fearfully, "Why are you floating?"

His emotions hit here just as Draco's had, but they were far more potent, more ordered. There was something about Draco's feeling that was so chaotic, like he kept them so balled up that they writhed and seethed around under the surface like live snakes, whereas Ron wasn't like that. His were all there for her to see, open, honest, affectionate. And see them she did in that moment. She felt his fear, his panic, could see his mind on the very brink of despair at seeing her in danger. But there was something soft and tepid about his feelings, something that reached out to her and wove around her psyche, keeping it warm.

Her examination of his thoughts was cut off when she suddenly became aware then of the lack of ground underneath her, of the air moving around her entire body.

She was lying in thin air.

"It's alright." she said calmly, a total juxtaposition of how she was feeling inside, and her voice seemed to reverberate through the forest, each tree trunk, leaf and blade of glass acting like a natural amplifier. She knew the other two could hear it too as they looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the echoes.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes again. Her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest and her panic was barely containable. But she knew she needed to calm herself. She needed to find her balance.

Without really thinking about it, Hermione slowly righted her body and stood, her feet planted firmly on the air. She looked around at the forest, smelling every single scent, hearing every sound, within what felt like three kilometre radius. It all devastated her, overcame her. But she kept a hold of her calm, realising deep down inside herself, that she was in the midst of experiencing a greater power perhaps than any witch or wizard had yet to cultivate. She did not want to taint it with alarm and panic.

She opened her mouth and breathed deeply. She could taste the water, the earth, Ron and Draco. The air was tangible on her tongue. It was real.

Draco was all spices and parchment, his smell looked like him, looked like his blonde hair and grey eyes. She almost found the lingering scent of his cologne on his cloak offensive. It didn't fit with him. It was too harsh.

Ron was earthy, like leaves and dirt. She liked his scent better; it was more pure than Draco's, less tainted by the artificial. He smelt like tea and basil.

The wind blew into her face as she was exploring each man's scent while she hung there, and every nerve responded to the caress. But she had to frown as a new smell assaulted her senses. It was distant, carried by the breeze from the northern edge of the forest, sort of half formed. It was the scent and taste of a certain kind of foulness, of decay and madness and suddenly, she knew. She knew which way to go. She knew where they could find Harry.

Hermione looked down at the two boys who were staring up at her with a mixture of reverential awe and fear. "Follow me. I know where he is." she said determinedly, her voice echoing through the trees.

Without waiting for a response, she walked through the air as surely as she would walk on the ground. The low hanging leaves of the trees brushed over her head and each touch felt like a caress. She could see the same pulsating veins of life and magic surging through every living thing around her, each branch, each leaf. When she looked down at the forest floor, the glow that emanated from it almost blinded her. The tendrils moved there too, but they were thicker, brighter and more powerful. She had to resist the urge to sink down and drive her fingers into the earth just so she might connect with the luminosity. But she couldn't. A part of her rational mind was still operating and it told her to use this new power to find the evil in this forest. To eradicate it.

And in that moment, she trusted herself entirely. She believed in herself. She didn't know where this surety was coming from but is surged her forward. It was instinct.

They moved together for some time, Hermione's nose leading them north. The boys trudged after her noisily, occasionally throwing questions at her which she did not answer. Her mind was too focused. Why could they not just trust her as she trusted herself? Why must they always know all the answers?

As she got closer, the scent of Harry's madness became more and more potent, making her stomach churn sickeningly. She hated the smell. But rather than being filled with fear over the coming confrontation, she was angered by it, angered by his presence, angry that he was tainting this beautiful place with his malice.

Eventually, they came upon a clearing and she held out her hand to stop the two boys following her.

In the centre, stood Harry, wand out, staring around himself in panic. She could tell that he'd been there for some time; there was no tent but there was a fire and various possessions lying around on the grass. He was surrounded by countless protective enchantments that meant that Ron and Draco could not see him. But Hermione did. He would have been better off hiding up a tree. He could not use magic to hide from her anymore.

Hermione reached out her hands once they had come upon the barriers he had put up. In one violent movement, she drove her nails into the thick enchantments and tore them apart like a sheet. They screamed at her attack and disintegrated.

"You felt me didn't you, Riddle?" said Hermione, her voice booming around the clearing, bouncing off the trees terrifyingly.

Harry rounded on her, alarm contorting his features. He looked wild, panicked. "What magic is this?!"

"_My_ magic." snarled Hermione.

His eyes flicked over her body, lingered on the air beneath her feet, moved across Ron, landed on Draco and his face contorted grotesquely with rage.

She knew what was about to happen even before it did, could see and feel the malevolent magic building in his aura, focusing in on his wand arm. She could feel his fury and instantly understood. Draco was one of the Death Eaters. Of the three of them, the Death Eater turned good would be the one he would most like to see dead.

Harry voice screeched the killing curse and what looked to Hermione like thick, ugly green vines shot out of his wand, writhed in the air and headed straight at Draco's chest. He did not even have time to dive out of the way.

But just as it was about to connect, just as it was about to snuff out Draco's life, Hermione held out a hand and felt the spell burn into her palm. The hideous green tendrils flew into her skin and disappeared.

Ron and Draco cried out in anguish but Hermione knew they had nothing to worry about, that there was no danger. She didn't know how and she would never be able to explain it afterwards, but she knew.

Her skin absorbed the killing curse and changed it, disintegrated its evil. The spell rebounded back at Harry, the tendrils now an angry purple, not imbibed with hatred as it usually was, but with love. Pure love.

It was too fast, he was not able to block it, was not able to dodge it and Hermione felt a fierce and raging satisfaction when it exploded onto Harry's chest and the colour absorbed into his body. He doubled over, his wand falling to the ground. He pitched forward onto his hands and knees and retched. His vomit was red with blood.

A little flash of sorrow cut through Hermione's determination at seeing Harry in so much pain. She wanted to comfort him. Without really thinking, her emotions reached out across the distance between them and nudged at his mind. She poured all of her empathy, all of her love and how much she missed him into the connection. But it did not work as she thought it might. Harry howled in pain and clawed at his head as if trying to dislodge her. She pulled away immediately, struck and alarmed by the ugliness that was unfolding in front of her.

His pain seemed to lessen slightly once she'd severed the connection and, slowly, Harry looked up at Hermione, straight into her eyes and she saw _him_. The eyes were green like they always were; they looked at her like they knew her. She realised then that she was seeing Harry, her friend, not Voldemort, her enemy.

"Hermione…" he sobbed, "_Help_."

And he was gone. The crack of his disapparation echoed through the clearing.

Hermione felt joy burst through her heart as determined, happy tears flooded her eyes.

He was still there, underneath Voldemort's evil. She was not too late. She could still save him.

And there was the hope. She felt hope.

Without really thinking, Hermione willed herself to sink back to the ground, between Ron and Draco. Their voices were clamouring in her ears harshly, asking questions, making demands, admonishing her for scaring him off… But Hermione wasn't listening. Suddenly, she was very tired. A mist was descending on her mind and, she reflected with a detached sort of calm, her senses were beginning to blink out of existence again.

"It's alright," she said sleepily as she felt her hip connect with the forest floor and she folded her arms under her head to act as a makeshift pillow. "The piece of soul is wounded. I wounded it. Voldemort's hold weakens… Harry will live."

And then, much to their consternation, she slept.

* * *

Hermione woke when what looked like soft dawn light was filtering lazily through the cracks in her curtains. She was conscious of being in her own bed, though had no memory of how she'd gotten there. She could feel the heat of Isobel pressed into her back, could see through the dimness, Padma and Eli intertwined and asleep in the bunk beside her and hear Juliet's soft snores from the other side of the bed.

It took her a moment to recall what had passed in the forest but when she did, she knew it was an experience beyond even her to describe. She had both been entirely herself but also entirely not. It made her head hurt to think about it but she couldn't get the images, the tastes, the scents, the sounds out of her mind.

Hermione knew then that she was changed by it. She was different to what she had been before.

For one hour, she'd felt like she was truly a goddess. And that idea made her weep a little as she pressed her face into her pillow.

It must have been very early in the morning and she began to wonder how long she'd been asleep for. Her clothes were changed and clean but her stomach was growling angrily at being so empty.

Slowly, through her contemplation, she became aware of another sound then, drifting in to her from the lounge room. It wasn't so much shouting as snarling and hissing. Like two people were fighting but trying to be quiet about it.

Hermione lifted her head a little so that she might hear better. After a moment, a thought began to drift up through the recesses of her sleep fogged mind. The thought said that those voices sounded like Draco and Ron.

She sat up instantly, her mind whirring back into action just as she heard Luna's muffled voice say, "What's going on?"

Hermione threw back the covers and leapt out of bed, banging her shin painfully on Padma and Eli's bunk, waking the couple up. As she made towards the door, Isobel and Juliet were stirring and sitting up, staring at her sleepily.

"Hermione?!" asked Isobel in drowsy shock, "What are you doing?"

She rounded the corner of the bed and, once in the lounge room, she understood the voices. Ron and Draco were standing just beside her front door glaring at each other. Luna was sitting up on the couch staring around owlishly and Susan was just beginning to stir. Blaise on the other hand was snoring obscenely into his pillow, seemingly unaffected by what was happening.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Hermione demanded, her voice rasping against her throat.

"Hermione!" said Draco in shock.

Ron turned to look at her too, the expression on his face much the same as Draco's. They both looked guilty and concerned for waking her up.

Padma appeared at her side, clad in nothing but one of Eli's tee-shirts. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, baffled, "Yes… Why?"

"Well…" said Isobel as she walked into the lounge room, "Draco and Ron brought you back passed out yesterday talking like you'd turned into some sort of all powerful goddess, said you'd seen Harry, done something to his soul and then you slept all day and all night… Forgive us for being a little worried…"

"Oh… Well, I feel fine." Hermione replied, shrugging. She turned back to Ron and Draco, "So what's all this about?"

"I just caught this slimy bastard trying to sneak out." Ron growled forebodingly.

"I was _not_ sneaking out!" Draco retorted.

Ron snorted, "Oh yeah? What were you doing then?!"

Draco sighed condescendingly, "Hermione, control your ape."

"That's rich coming from you, ferret!" snarled Ron.

Hermione lifted a hand to run over her forehead. The absolute childishness she was witnessing in the two of them was astounding. This is what she'd been woken up for? After everything that had happened the previous day? She was supposed to referee a virtual cat fight between two grown men?

"I'm not dealing with this." she said simply, turning around to go back into the bedroom. "I feel like I haven't eaten in three days and my head is pounding. Can't you put this pathetic rivalry aside for _two seconds_?! If Draco says he wasn't sneaking out, then I believe him."

"Fine." growled Ron, "What were you doing then, Malfoy?" he demanded.

Draco looked at Hermione unabashedly and said smugly, "I was actually coming in to see you. Thought you might like some company."

Ron's scowl vanished instantly and Hermione felt her stomach churn. She wanted to hit him but before she could fully entertain the thought, someone was already doing it for her.

Draco gave a howl of pain as Ron's fist connected with his face.

"Ron! What are you doing?!" she squealed, rushing forwards.

It took her, Luna and Eli to pry Ron away from Draco's hunched form.

"Wasgoinon?" grunted Blaise from the floor.

Hermione was surprise to see Draco laughing sarcastically through his bloody nose and was momentarily taken aback by how well he was handling the fact that he'd just been punched in the face.

"That is so like you, Weasley. And you wonder why I call you an ape?" said Draco condescendingly, still wearing his superior grin.

Ron's face was burning red as he retorted, cradling his bruised fist in his hand, "I'd rather be an ape than whatever _you _are, Malfoy."

"Oh, yes I'm sure you would!" retorted Draco cruelly, "It's so much easier being an unsophisticated cretin isn't it? Not that you really have all that much choice in the matter. Who is it you take after, Weasley? You're failure of a father or your lunatic mother?"

The silence crashed down over the room like an iron grate. Ron did not move.

"Oh, Draco…" said Hermione sadly. She could not begin to contemplate the disappointment she was feeling in that moment, couldn't articulate how much Draco's words had wounded her respect for him, not that she had that much left.

Ron took a deep breath and stared back at Draco head on. "Thank you. Thank you for proving that I am the better man."

And with that, he turned and swept past her and into the bedroom. The sound of the bathroom door crashing closed echoed through the flat.

No one spoke. Draco stared around at the rest of the _tovarasi _defiantly.

Surprisingly, it was Blaise who broke the silence.

"Hermione?" he said, and the tone of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. It was quiet. Terrified. "Where is Ginny?"

"What?" she responded slowly.

"Ginny… She's not here." said Blaise and Hermione could see the panic building in his eyes.

Luna suddenly leapt off the couch and pounced on the bunk that Ginny and Blaise had been sharing, her hands scrambling through the possessions that littered one side. "All her things are still here… Except her wand."

"No…" said Susan slowly from over near the balcony door, "Her wand is here." she was pointing at the floor at her feet where the thin stick of wood lay on the floorboards.

The ten of them stared at it, dumbfounded, shocked.

The balcony door was slightly ajar.

* * *

A/N To all of the guests who reviewed, thank you so much! I'm hearing a lot of hate on Hermione at the moment, which makes me kind of sad. I suppose it comes down to the fact that we're all different, and deal with things differently, which is ok! I'm writing this story from my perspective and trust me when I say I HAVE shown some restraint haha. If I'd been Hermione in that scenario, Draco would have been reduced to nothing more than a black smudge on the ceiling and a pile of teeth :D

ExiledWater - Yay! I missed you!


	36. Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

ANTICIPATE

_"If there's anything I've learned all these years on my own, it's how to find my own way there and how to find my own way back home."_

The air was so still, Hermione felt as if she could have been standing in a wax museum. Every member of the _tovarasi_ was staring at Ginny's discarded wand.

"I… I can't feel her." said Luna softly, breaking the impenetrable silence.

"She's not dead!" growled Draco harshly, making Hermione jump.

She felt herself sway on the spot at the knowledge that they had been thinking the same thing as her. Ginny hadn't just popped out for a bottle of milk, she wasn't in the bathroom, about to emerge and laugh at their silly assumption…

"Ron!" Hermione cried into her bedroom, "RON!"

Her bathroom door opened and she stared into the scowling face of her former boyfriend. The scowl fell away however, at what she said next.

"Ginny's gone."

"What?! Where?!" he demanded, walking towards her.

"I… I don't know… She left her wand." Hermione pointed towards the balcony door.

Ron stopped and stared at the sight just as the rest of them had, his face falling into subdued terror. He and Hermione shared a long look before he said in one breath, "Harry."

Isobel let out a little stifled sob, "Hermione… What are we going to do?"

Hermione's hands shook as she spoke, "We're… We're going to stay calm… We need to think here… Does anyone remember seeing Ginny get up at any point during the night?" she directed this question mainly at Blaise.

He shook his head, looking dumbfounded and a hairs breadth away from panic, "No… She was right here. All night." he said quietly, running his hand over the empty space beside him.

"Right… Right… Ok." Hermione began to pace. "Suggestions. Where would she have gone? Any possibilities?"

"She might have gone back to Hogwarts." offered Susan doubtfully.

"Yes… You're right. You and Juliet, go to Hogwarts and talk to McGonagall and Teodora… Even if she isn't there, they need to know." Susan rose immediately and picked up her cloak while Juliet wordlessly disappeared back into the bedroom to pull on her jeans. Hermione looked back at the remainder of the group. "Anything else?"

"Maybe she went back to the Burrow." said Padma.

"Good point, but I don't think having just anyone show up there looking for her is going to go down well." Hermione responded, frowning. "Why don't you and Eli go down and talk to whichever Auror is on duty and let them know what's going on? Then they can check with the Weasleys."

Before Padma could do anything but nod, Draco had cut across her. "No, I think I'll do that. Max is on."

Hermione nodded stiffly and Draco swept out of the front door without another word, followed closely by Susan and Juliet. She looked at Ron, trying desperately to keep a hold of her roiling emotions.

"Can you think of anything else?" she asked him.

He grimaced, his hands grasping at his hair, "I don't know Hermione. She could be anywhere. She might have gone to Grimauld Place or the forest of Dean. She might have decided to try and find him… I don't know!"

The look on his face wanted her to fix everything, to make it go away. He was pleading with her, even though he hadn't said it aloud. He was begging.

"It's alright." she said urgently, knowing as she did that her words made absolutely no difference. "It's going to be alright. We… we just have to think about this. Come on, Ron! This is what we're good at!" she tried to pour every ounce of her determination into Ron, tried to make him feel her defiance. He nodded at her, staring desperately into her eyes.

"My little sister, Hermione…" he choked and it was as if she and him were the only two in the room.

"I know. I know… Look… I don't think Ginny would leave of her own accord, honestly, I don't think she'd do that to us… So, we've got to think like Harry don't we? Find him, and we'll find Ginny."

"But where would he go?! We've already checked everywhere!" he responded, near hysteria.

Hermione began to pace, feeling the eyes of the _tovarasi_ on her as she did so. She walked over to the balcony door and picked up Ginny's wand. In her mind, she said the appropriate incantation and determined that the last spell the younger girl had cast was _lumos_. That didn't give her much.

"I feel like it's right there… That it's obvious… And I just can't see it." she said more to herself than anyone else. "Where would Harry go? Where are the places most important to him?"

It felt like the hunt for the Horcruxes all over again. The places began to list themselves in her head, over and over. Godric's Hollow, Grimauld Place, the Burrow, the forest of Dean, Hogwarts… Anything else she could think of wouldn't work. Too public. Places like the Ministry or Gringotts. Harry was a fugitive. The Aurors were combing the entire country for him. He wouldn't be anywhere he could be exposed.

Hermione stared around her flat blindly, noting that the _tovarasi _had begun to move. Isobel was banishing the conjured bunks that cluttered up the lounge room floor, Padma and Eli were in the kitchen making tea, Blaise was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands and Luna was patting his shoulder feebly. Ron, it seemed, was in the same position as Hermione, the look in his face intent and concentrated. She knew that look.

Draco returned minutes later and told them that the Minister had been summoned and the Aurors were on their way to the Burrow. Hermione found herself frustrated, she didn't want more involvement with the Ministry. They didn't know what they were doing. The idea of explaining everything to Kingsley again was annoying and unnecessary.

Nevertheless, when the Minister arrived half an hour later, joined by a selection of Aurors, Hermione resigned herself to giving him a full explanation of what had taken place, telling herself all the time that if it helped Ginny, she'd talk until she had no words left at all.

* * *

By that night, the mood in Hermione's flat was significantly less calm. There had been no progress whatsoever, the Aurors had been forcing their way into any place connected with Harry all over the country, even going so far as to secure permission from the Minister to enter his Gringotts vault. But it had all been for naught. Harry was nowhere to be found and neither was Ginny. And Kingsley had outright refused to allow Hermione, Ron and Draco to go off on their own again based on the fact that her somewhat abridged description of taking the _Zeitei Otrava _had led him to believe that it was 'too dangerous'. Though she strongly suspected that it was a greater power he feared.

The _tovarasi _flitted in and out of her flat and it took Hermione a little while to understand what they were doing. It wasn't until Padma and Eli returned sometime in the afternoon carrying an armload of clothes and bedding the she finally caught on. They were setting up camp. Her fridge and pantry were being filled, new shelves were being added to the bathroom so that it could hold more things, and she even thought she overheard Susan and Juliet conversing with one of the free Aurors about how they might magically enhance the size of the lounge room.

Hermione, of course, was caught up in constant strategizing and thought with Ron. She did not feel she had the time to devote to anything else; it had been with careful reluctance that she'd even showered that morning. But she was glad the rest of her friends were finding ways of occupying themselves, even when the omnipresent frowns on their faces never faltered, she knew if would have been much harder for them to just sit and do nothing.

She knew this because she felt like this had been exactly what she'd been doing all day.

At about eight o'clock, Hermione found herself sitting on the couch next to Ron, nursing what felt like her fifteenth cup of tea that day, and watching as the Minister paced backwards and forwards in front of them.

"Can you think of any place Harry has ever expressed a wish to visit? Anywhere he might have chosen to go, even if he's never been there before?" he shot at them.

Hermione sighed wearily, "No, sir. None at all."

"And you have provided the Aurors with a complete list of all the places you camped during the year you were evading Voldemort?"

"Yes, Minister." Hermione bit out through gritted teeth, knowing that Kingsley knew full well she had already done that.

He looked then, to Ron, "And what about Ginny? Any family you went to see over the course of your lives? Anywhere she might seek refuge?"

Ron shook his head dejectedly, "Not that I can think of… Unless you count Muriel's. But I think she'd rather cop a few torture curses before going there."

"We've already checked with your great aunt." said Kingsley, ignoring Ron's vague attempt at humor.

"I know it might be going out on a limb, but have you thought to try the homes of people who've been important to Harry? Like maybe Dumbledore's or Remus Lupin's…?" asked Hermione.

The Minister frowned, "No, but I suppose it might be worth a try." he said doubtfully.

She felt a small surge of smug satisfaction. Despite the fact that Kingsley had reiterated over and over again that she could be of no use to the operation, she was still the one offering the most suggestions. If it hadn't been for her, the Aurors would not have checked inside the Shrieking Shack earlier that day and found fresh footprints in the dust that looked to be Harry's, moving into the secret passageway that led into Hogwarts, then back out again. Consequentially, they now could reasonably guess, given the evidence, that Harry had indeed taken Ginny as it had appeared he had gone to Hogwarts first, looking for her.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably and looked up at the pacing Minister, hoping that she didn't sound so much like a whiny child, "Sir, if you would just let Ron and Draco and I…"

"Miss Granger, for the fifth time, absolutely not!" growled Kingsley, cutting across her, "I should never have allowed you to go in the first place. One of you was almost killed!"

Hermione bit back a retort and looked across at Ron who seemed on the verge of mutiny. She put a hand on his knee and shook her head minutely. It would be of no use to them if he lost his temper. He glanced at her and nodded stiffly, a silent acknowledgement of what she was trying to say.

The Minister seemed through with his line of questioning and became immersed in a conversation with on the Aurors.

Hermione's hand lingered on Ron's knee as she sat back, sighing frustratedly.

At that moment, Draco entered the flat and Hermione noticed his eyes flick towards her hand on Ron's knee. There was a tiny moment, an infinitesimal second in which she saw the Draco she knew and saw herself through his eyes, saw herself sitting next to Ron on the couch, pressed in beside him the way that her and Draco had sat so many times. She saw that it hurt him. In a flash, she was remembering all that had passed between them, all those shared conservations, the laughter and the touching. For the last three days, he'd been the old Draco, the Draco that had called her a mudblood and teased at school. It was like the last four months had never happened at all.

"What are we going to do?" asked Ron into her ear, snapping her eyes away from Draco's face. And the moment was gone.

"Hmm?" she said vaguely.

"Kingsley's not gonna budge and you and I both know the Auror's won't find Harry…"

Hermione nodded and sighed. "I don't know… They'll leave soon. We'll talk more then."

She patted his shoulder feebly and stood up, walking past Draco and into the kitchen where Isobel was pawing through her fridge. The younger girl looked up when Hermione joined her.

"Are you alright?" Isobel asked and Hermione could hear the dejected weariness in her voice.

"Yeah, I think so… I need to talk to you."

Isobel frowned and straightened. For a moment, she looked a little defensive and backed away from Hermione slightly to lean on the kitchen windowsill. "What about?"

Hermione looked behind her to make sure that they were properly alone. "It's nothing much. I just… I need to talk to someone. About anything that's not to do with Harry. I just need to talk." she was conscious of the fact that her voice was becoming more and more laced with desperation as she continued to speak. It hadn't been a conscious thing; in fact she hadn't planned it at all. But the moment she'd looked at Isobel, she'd been seized with the urge to lean on her friend and the words had just tumbled out.

Isobel's eyebrow contracted in concern. "Of course, Hermione… What's wrong?"

Hermione moved to join her friend on the windowsill so that they could speak quietly. She did not entirely trust the voices of the Aurors and the remaining _tovarasi _to mask their conversation. "It's Ron and Draco actually."

Isobel nodded understandingly, "Ok… What about them?"

Hermione grimaced, "I'm... confused. I don't know what I'm doing. This whole thing is just… Fucked." she ducked her head, wishing that she still had her long hair so that it could swing forward and hide her face. Her eyes were burning. "Ron and I are so easy. It just happens and I don't even realise it, we're standing close together or sitting next to each other. There is no space between me and him… I'm so used to it that I don't notice it. But I like it. I missed him. Always." The tears built and spilt down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. "But I love Draco. I love him. And I'm so hurt… I can't believe he… I wish I'd never seen that memory. I want it to be like it was. I miss being in love with him, I miss being near him. I wish he would stop looking at me like he hates me."

Hermione turned to face the window as her chest heaved with each sniff. She brushed the tears away but they kept coming. Isobel turned as well and rested her head on Hermione's shoulder.

"He doesn't hate you Hermione. He doesn't even blame you for what you did or said. He's hurt too…" the younger girl said quietly.

"It's broken now though, isn't it?" Hermione whispered, her breath fogging up the glass.

"I think it always was."

Hermione's forehead pressed itself against the cold glass as she tried her best to make her sobbing as unnoticeable as possible to anyone who might be watching. Isobel's hand ran circles on her back, her head remaining on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione looked sideways at her friend, her wet cheek sliding against the window, fogged by their combined breathing.

"Isobel…" she breathed, her words catching in her throat, "I don't want to survive this."

Her young friend sighed sadly and took her hand, "You don't have a choice."

They stood like that for a long time, staring out into muggle London together. Isobel allowed Hermione to cry until she was ready to stop and it was some time before she was able to master herself.

Eventually, Hermione pulled away, scrubbing at her face with her sleeve. She moved over to the sink and splashed her face.

"I'm sorry for getting so mad at you by the way…" she said quietly to Isobel as she dried herself with a tea towel.

"It's ok. I'm sorry for not listening to what you said." the younger girl replied with a kind smile.

"Why were you so intent on talking to him anyway?" she asked, and it was a thought that had been coursing through her head for three days.

Isobel looked away, appearing more than a little uncomfortable. "Well… For one, I understood Draco's fear and I thought maybe he could be talked round, and two… I… I figured if he really was planning on going back to Voldemort, it would be in our best interests to keep him here." she gave her a pointed look and Hermione knew exactly what she meant. Why release an active Death Eater? She found herself shocked at Isobel's cunning and deviousness.

"And what if he couldn't be talked round? What if he'd said no?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

"Blaise and I would have stunned him and handed him over to the Aurors. We… We talked about it on the way here…" Isobel replied sadly. "I'm glad it didn't come to that."

Hermione was thrown for a moment before she felt a little bit guilty that she'd ever doubted Isobel's loyalty. The funny thing was, she found when she thought about it, that Isobel had never outright declared her loyalty, had never said anything that might lead anyone believe she had totally renounced her former pureblood obsession, but she _had_ been loyal and her loyalty was unwavering. Even in the face of confronting Voldemort, she was willing to stun and betray a Death Eater she would have considered her friend, just to help the light.

Isobel Holub had truly switched sides.

Draco on the other hand had made a lot of pretty speeches. The first to the entire school, the next few to her, and one of the last to Auror Watson. But it was all words. He was just a peacock ruffling his feathers. He might have meant what he said at the time, but she knew he'd never really thought about what it would actually mean to fight for the light. He'd just trusted that the opportunity to prove his loyalty against the Dark Arts would never come. He'd been rather unlucky in that respect.

Hermione pulled Isobel into a tight hug. Wordlessly, they smiled at one another and returned to the lounge room to see that Kingsley and the Aurors were just leaving.

Along with the rest of the _tovarasi_ she nodded obediently in response to the Minister's last minute warnings and admonitions and heaved a great sigh of relief when the door finally shut behind him.

There was a moment's silence in which the group stared around at each other before Eli exclaimed, "_Please_ tell me we can start planning for real now?!"

Hermione nodded firmly. If Kingsley thought she and the rest of the group were just going to sit around and wait like compliant little children, then he had clearly forgotten who he was dealing with.

* * *

Two hours later and they had very nearly chewed through Hermione's monumental supply of tea bags. The atmosphere was tense and far from jovial.

"But it's a good point!" Draco was saying forcefully, his finger stabbing down on the table in front of him.

"No it _isn't_. This is Harry Potter we're talking about and if he…"

Draco cut Juliet off before she could finish, "But it's _not _Potter, is it? It's the Dark Lord! And the Dark Lord has taken refuge most of all in the homes of his followers!"

"Can you think of who he might go to?" asked Padma, pushing a piece of parchment and a quill towards him. He snatched them up and began scribbling.

Hermione stared down at the large map of Britain stretched across her coffee table from her position standing by the balcony window. It was covered in crosses and circles, hastily scribbled words and arrows… Her head hurt. It felt like they'd covered every possibility.

"Wait." said Ron suddenly from his position on the floor, his eyes out of focus, "If we're supposed to be thinking like Voldemort… Holy shit!" he leapt to his feet and looked directly at Hermione, "The Horcruxes!"

"Oh no…" Hermione groaned, her face falling into her hands. She understood exactly what he meant.

"What?" said Draco impatiently.

"There are two places that Harry might be… Places that Voldemort hid his Horcruxes. The Gaunt Shack or the cave…"

"And what's 'oh no'?" asked Susan.

Hermione grimaced. "Well, we know that the Gaunt Shack is near Little Hangleton, but not the exact location, and the cave… Well, only Harry and Dumbledore knew where that was. It could be anywhere on the coast… We can reasonably deduce that it would be close to London as the orphanage Voldemort grew up in was there and they wouldn't have taken the children very far away, but that doesn't really narrow it down. I mean… I guess we could try and gain access to the memories Dumbledore showed Harry in our sixth year but…"

"That won't be easy." Ron finished for her.

She shook her head resignedly. "No, it won't. Not without the Ministry catching on to what we're doing. And if that happens, Kingsley will just drive Harry further into hiding when the Aurors go bumbling into these places."

There was a tense silence as the reality of the situation sunk down over the group.

"Hold on." said Luna after a while, "Maybe we're being too black and white about this. At first we were trying to think like Harry… Now we're trying to think like Voldemort. But, if what Hermione said is true and the piece of soul possessing him is damaged, wouldn't it be more likely that he would now be a mixture of the two? Harry _and _Voldemort?"

Hermione nodded slowly, "You're right… You're so right! For Voldemort, the cave would be the perfect hiding place as he inhabits the body of the only living person who knows its location! But Harry would never go back there! Not after everything that happened!"

"Exactly." said Luna with a touch of pride in her voice.

"And the Gaunt Shack is… is… oh." Hermione couldn't finish her sentence. Something had slammed down over her mind, something awful, the worst feeling she'd ever felt, and she'd felt it many times in the last year. It was heartbreak and betrayal, despair and hopelessness.

Her knees hit the floor with a crack as one of her hands moved up to clutch at her throat. She felt like she couldn't breathe unless she was screaming, and if she opened her mouth that was exactly what would come out.

"What the fuck is going on?!"

Hermione looked up at the sound of Ron's shout and saw him staring around at them all in alarm. Every member of the _tovarasi _was in much the same position as her. Susan, Juliet and Padma were crying unabashedly, Blaise's fists were clenched in his lap, his body shaking, Luna stared around at them owlishly, panic and fear contorting her features, Eli had his head in his hands and Draco was leaning into his arms, propped up against the table, gasping uncontrollably.

Hermione leapt forwards, ignoring Ron's continued questioning and grasped at her beaded bag. She drove her arm into its depths and pulled out the innocuous looking wooden box.

"What are you doing?!" choked Draco but she ignored him.

The lid clicked open and, lighting fast, she produced a vial of the _Zeitei Otrava_, flicked off the cork and tipped it down her throat. The colour faded from the world but Hermione did not wait for it to come back. She leapt to her feet, her knees shaking uncontrollably, and rushed over towards the couch.

"Move!" she demanded of Luna and Draco, and both of them slid onto the floor. Hermione pulled the map towards her and seized the quill lying discarded on the table top.

The colour burst into life in front of her but it was dull compared to what she'd experienced in the forest of Dean so she ignored it as she closed her eyes and concentrated.

Inside her mind felt a lot calmer than she'd expected. It was almost easy under the influence of the _Zeitei Otrava_, to separate her own emotions from Ginny's. Once this was done, she tried to examine the situation with a critical eye, but that didn't work. The one thing she'd learnt when deal with both Dividing Line magic and the bond of the _tovarasi_, was that both relied almost entirely on instinct.

And so Hermione took a deep breath and let her instincts guide her.

She began to move. Not her body, but her mind. It was flying out of her flat, over London, heading in one definite direction. She felt her hand scribble something on the map.

It wasn't far, only a short distance, until her mind slowed and stopped. When she opened her eyes then, she saw, for the briefest of moments, Harry's face staring down at her and felt her wrists bound tightly. But it was only a flash before her mind was whipped back across the distance, colliding with her body painfully.

She opened her eyes and looked down at the map to see what she'd written.

"South-west." said Luna aloud in a shaky voice, looking over Hermione's shoulder.

"Would someone _please_ tell me what the fuck just happened?!" demanded Ron.

"We're feeling Ginny." said Padma from the floor, wiping at her wet face.

Ginny's feelings were beginning to become bearable but Hermione still had to fight to hold onto her emotions as she looked around at her friends.

"Alright… So what was all that about Hermione?" Ron asked, looking like he was trying very hard to hold on to his patience.

Hermione took a shaky breath. "The Dividing Line magic is all about mind and perception. The _tovarasi _bond is the same. I feel the same basic structure to both magic's. So I thought that seeing as we are _feeling _from Ginny's perspective and the _Zeitei Otrava _enhances perspective, that it might be used to enhance the bond too. And it did. I saw through her eyes for a moment." said Hermione in the same reverential tone she used every time she took the potion.

A collective gasp whispered through the room.

"What did you see?" asked Luna lowly.

Hermione frowned and closed her eyes, trying to bring the image back to life. "She's bound in a dark room. Harry is standing over her. He looks… Deranged." she opened her eyes again and shook her head as if to clear it, "I didn't get anything else… But I know in which direction my mind traveled to get to her." she tapped the words she'd writing on the map.

"South-west." confirmed Isobel.

Blaise suddenly joined Hermione on the couch, staring down at the map, brow furrowed. "Well… That cancels out the Gaunt Shack, Little Hangleton is directly south of us…" he took up the quill and drew a large cross over the area. "And we can forget about the cave, the coast is east… But what's south-west?"

Hermione watched as he drew a line from Diagon Alley, down to the corner of the map to illustrate their position and the direction her mind had flown. Her eyes ran over the names and places close to the line until they fell on something that stirred her thoughts.

"Surrey." she whispered. "Oh my god… _Oh my god_! Think like Voldemort! Think like Harry! Voldemort stayed close to his origins, though he despised them, something he and Harry shared in common! And Harry would want to be somewhere familiar! A place he knew well! _I know where he is_!" she leapt to her feet, kicking herself for not thinking of it sooner, it had been so obvious.

"Privet Drive." said Ron quietly, staring at her with wide eyes. She nodded.

"Should we call the Aurors?" asked Juliet fearfully.

"No." said Hermione firmly, shaking her head, "No… We're going to go together. All of us. Harry… Harry mustn't be allowed to kill anyone and I can stop that. If the Aurors come, I won't be able to take the potion."

"So what are you suggesting?" asked Draco lowly.

"That I take another dose of the _Zeitei Otrava_ here, wait until it takes effect and then we go there. Tonight." she replied, daring him to contradict her. To her surprise, he did not.

"Shouldn't we plan more?" asked Padma, sounding near hysteria, "Shouldn't we think about this?"

"Do you really want to leave Ginny in this position for any longer?" asked Isobel seriously.

Padma shook her head and looked at Eli, eyes wide. He put an arm around her shoulders and rested his forehead against hers. Their auras merged and throbbed slightly and Hermione had to look away, seized with a yearning so strong it nearly crippled her, to have that kind of comfort for herself…

"Let's do it then." said Ron, getting to his feet.

Hermione nodded numbly, dragged her bag back towards her and produced another vial of the potion, her hands shaking. She drank it quickly and waited anxiously for what she knew was coming.

Just as she'd thought, after a moment, her vision blanked out along with all of her other senses. Despite the fact that she'd gone through it before, she couldn't help but panic over the collective sensations she was feeling.

It was like pain but it wasn't. It was like a total, unequivocal evaluation of herself. Like her body needed to shut down and reboot into that altered state.

But quicker than she expected, the feelings faded and she was able to smell, touch, taste, see and hear again. She opened her eyes.

Blaise was still sitting next to her, staring in alarm at the foot of space that hung underneath her body.

It was strange, being in a room full of people while in that state, seeing their magical beings, their auras, the patterns on their skin. Hermione noticed a thick thread connecting Eli and Padma that glowed brightly, their love was strong.

"You feel ok?" asked Ron carefully.

Hermione nodded, trying to find a rhythm in her breathing. After a minute she realise that just like she could will herself to stand upright in the air, she could also will herself to be in contact with the ground. She sunk slowly down until she was sitting on the couch again.

"I'm ready." she said and her voice echoed around the room causing everyone to start and look about themselves.

She stood slowly, almost expecting her head to spin, but it did not. The scents of the room, however, were making her feel sick. It was too much, the smell of fear and despair, as well as the love and the bond. It was like she'd just dipped her head into a vat of perfume; from a distance it would have been lovely but as it was so concentrated, it made her stomach churn.

"I want to leave now." she reiterated when no one moved.

"Now?" asked Isobel slowly.

"Yes." said Hermione, her hands beginning to shake. "Right now. Let's go."

She stood up, scooped up her bag and walked over towards the door. Without waiting for any of them, she opened it and charged down the spiral staircase, the scent of the books, though overpowering, calmed her.

Outside in Diagon Alley, the darkness was nothing to her, she saw everything. It was as if the street had a memory that it was allowing her to view. She could see the shadows of the witches and wizards that moved there throughout the day, throughout the years, drifting through the darkness like ghosts. The Dividing Line breathed on the back of her neck, sending shivers cascading over her skin.

After pausing for only the briefest of moments to take in the sight, Hermione turned and walked purposefully up towards the Leaky Cauldron. She smelt rather than heard the _tovarasi_ coming up behind her.

When they reached the courtyard, there was a moment of hesitation as only Ron had ever been to Harry's aunt and uncle's house which made it difficult for everyone to apparate there safely. Instead, they hulked around a rusted out cauldron sitting by the wall and Hermione performed the required magic to turn it into a portkey that would take them to Magnolia crescent, a couple of streets away from Privet Drive. It wouldn't do for them to appear right on the doorstep of number four without knowing what to expect first.

"Are you ready?" she asked the group at large, her voice taking on more of an ethereal quality out in the open.

Her question was met with nods and looks of fear before the group moved to crouch and crane to touch a part of the portkey.

The cauldron glowed blue, shooting out many little tendrils into all of their arms and Hermione felt an old familiar pull behind her naval before Diagon Alley was swept away and she was twirling though something that made her feel as if she was inside a kaleidoscope. Of course, to the others, it just looked like a rush of colour and light, too fast to take in, but under the influence of the potion, Hermione was privy to every last excruciating detail.

When they finally landed on solid ground, her head was spinning sickeningly, the colours still imprinted on her retinas. She stumbled a little away from the group and threw up gracelessly.

"Are you alright?" asked Luna frantically, rushing to lay a hand on Hermione's back.

"Fine." she breathed in reply, "It's just overwhelming is all."

Hermione allowed herself a few minutes to crouch quietly on the pavement, one hand thrown out to balance her. When the head spin stopped, she took a few deep breaths and stood.

"So how will we know if he's here?" asked Eli seriously.

Hermione turned around to reply, finally looking up but the words stopped in her throat.

There, in the background behind the assemble group, was a great dome of light, protruding from the landscape like a mountain. It glowed brilliantly and appeared to pulse and throb in the darkness. Never in all her life had she ever seen anything neither so epic nor so beautiful. The stark contrast between the pedestrian muggle environment that ached with mediocrity compared with this monolithic half sphere was breathtaking. It was like looking into the face of the sun from only metres away.

At the look on her face, many of the _tovarasi_ wheeled round in alarm to see what she was gawking at. They were nothing more than dark silhouettes against the light.

"What is it, Hermione?!" demanded Draco.

"Is he here, can you see him?!" asked Padma, fear potent in her voice.

Hermione could do nothing but shake her head mutely. After a moment, she forced herself to speak, only because the panic and terror she could smell on the air because of the group was beginning to make her dizzy.

"I can see… I can see the protective enchantments around the house… But they're unlike anything I've ever known. They're… Beautiful." she whispered in awe.

"So Harry and Ginny are definitely here?" asked Ron urgently.

"Yes." she breathed in reply.

Without waiting for any other sort of confirmation, Ron turned heel and began to walk purposefully towards the dome. After a moment, Hermione and the rest of the group followed.

As they approached, she began to see more and more detail in the half sphere, could see what looked like a network of veins stretching upward through the magic. They reminded her so strongly of the veins in her wrists that she began to fear that these protective enchantments were the result of complicated blood magic. The thought shot horror through her heart. She'd read the same books Harry had and knew what he would have had to do to acquire blood…

Ron reached the base of the dome and Hermione cried out. She rushed forward to grasp his arm and pull him roughly backwards.

"Nobody move any closer! We're at the foot of the enchantments now and I think it might be blood magic. If you walk through them, you will die." she said urgently.

When Ron had moved back to a safe distance, Hermione stared upward, her mind speeding along any idea she could think of to bring the dome down. Long moments passed as she wracked her brains to no avail.

Suddenly, the dome pulsed violently, coating her in light and she was thrown backward. She knew that if it had not been for the potion, the flare would have killed her. Hermione landed painfully some ten feet from the half sphere and the _tovarasi_ rushed to her side, Padma skidding to a halt on her knees and pulling out her wand.

Hermione hands were bleeding and stinging but she had no concern for that. She looked up at Ron, her eyes wide.

"He felt me. Harry knows we're here."

* * *

A/N You campaigned for longer chapters so here you go! Enjoy :D

Thanks to all my guest reviewers! Unfortunately, I can't really respond to any of your reviews (without giving everything away hehe) but I hope you like where the story goes!

Much love

- Desdemona


	37. Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

REPRIEVE

_"Oh, to grow up hypnotized and then try to shake yourself awake. Because you can sense what has been lost. Because you can sense what is at stake."_

Hermione pushed herself to her feet, her bleeding hands grating against the gravel of the road, ignoring the questions shot at her by the _tovarasi_. She approached the dome again, tentatively, never moving close enough for the flares that were now pulsing out regularly to touch her. She knew it was Harry's doing, as if he'd engaged some defense mechanism in the half sphere. It was almost dormant when they had arrived. But how did one combat blood magic? What could she do to move through this barrier? She thought of all the instances she could remember wherein protective enchantments were brought down, but they were all minor, flimsy things compared to this. The only one she could think of that would even begin to match its strength was the dome that covered Hogwarts before the beginning of the Final Battle. And that had been brought down by a volley of strong attacks combined with Voldemort's raw outpouring of power.

So perhaps that's what she needed? A raw outpouring of power.

"Hermione?" said Juliet from behind her.

Hermione turned towards the younger girl's voice and found that Juliet was not in fact looking at her, but around the environment they were standing in.

"What is it?"

"It's just… Doesn't it seem a little quiet to you?" asked Juliet fearfully.

Hermione stopped to listen and noted immediately that Juliet was right. Sure, it was the middle of the night, but there were no lights in windows, no sound other than the insects and the wind. There was an unnatural emptiness to the street. She sensed that they were entirely alone; Privet Drive was deserted, abandoned. Where were all the muggles? Even the street lights were out.

Her consciousness floated outward from her body, attempting to sense out the living things around her. But aside from the _tovarasi_, there was nothing. Her mind touched on no other heartbeat, she felt no other pulse. The street and the houses on it were uninhabited.

Hermione turned back to the dome and directed her mind now to drift over to it, lazily, in an attempt to better feel the magic that radiated off it. She came across a number of spells she did not recognize, but there were one of two that she did.

"He's put up muggle repelling charms…" she said lowly, without looking back at the group. "Strong ones. We're alone."

She wondered how long Privet Drive had been his refuge. For the power to be out, for it to be completely empty, suggested that the muggles had been avoiding the place for some time. Hermione realised then that it was cunningly done. Had he chosen to murder the muggles, or hurt them in some way, the ministry would have known about it immediately. But as it was, there was no suspicion at all. The muggles just simply did not come to this part of Surrey anymore. Was this Harry's doing or Voldemort's? It was irrelevant but Hermione could not help but question the motives behind the charm. Had it been Harry's desire to move the muggles out of harm's way or Voldemort's need for seclusion?

Either way, at least this meant, in the end, that there were fewer innocents that might get hurt in the coming confrontation.

That was provided that she could actually get through the barriers he'd put up.

"An outpouring of power…" Hermione whispered to herself. This was what she needed. But how? She could hardly cast _stupefy _at this monstrous half sphere of light and expect it to do anything…

"What was that?" asked Ron of her whisper.

Hermione shook her head, frowning, "I don't know what to do… I need to destroy these enchantments or move through them, but I can't think how!"

Her head fell into her hands, the smells, sounds and feelings reverberating from all around her were beginning to get frustrating. She just wanted her mind to be clear so that she could think.

"Well isn't it obvious?" said Draco with a hint of that old sarcasm she was familiar with. "Use _Auxilium_, Hermione."

Her head snapped up to look at him, standing slightly apart from the group and glowing eerily in the darkness. "Do you think that will work?" she asked quietly.

"Could it really hurt to try?" Draco responded with a shrug. Hermione sensed immediately that this way the wrong thing to say as far as the rest of the group were concerned.

"Yes! Of course it could!" hissed Padma, "That's the whole point isn't it?! Hermione needs to get from one side to the other _without _getting hurt! You can't just use some random spell!"

The other's voice rose in agreement but she knew that Draco was right, really. Without a qualified curse breaker, they didn't have much hope if not for the Dividing Line magic.

Hermione looked back at the dome, fear seething through her blood. It was really the only logical path to take…

She pushed her beaded bag into Isobel's hands and walked forward towards the dome, ignoring the protests coming from behind her. She'd have to work fast if she managed to get close enough for her to be on the Dividing Line of the enchantment. If she did not, a flare would throw her away again before she managed to cast the spell, which, while not lethal, was inconvenient. When she was close, Hermione broke into a halting jog, ducking and weaving to avoid the flares that lashed out at her. This meant that at times, she was running parallel to the dome rather than towards it. She yearned, then, that she might have given Quidditch a better try.

Finally, Hermione managed to get close enough for the heat of the spells to make her sweat profusely, as if she were standing too close to an open fire. She skidded to a halt mere inches from the wall of light, dropped to the ground and pointed her wand at the asphalt below her.

"_AUXILIUM_!" she cried and instantly, she was able to see thick ropes of light flying out of the ground to sink into her skin as the familiar warmth spread up her legs. The spell had worked.

Hermione instantly willed herself to be protected from the lashings of the protective enchantments and, to her joy; she saw a shimmering transparent sphere form around her. The flames licked around the outside of her cage and she felt their pressure trying to force her backwards but she resisted.

For a moment, she was totally overcome by the brilliance of what she was witnessing. From all sides, colour and light pressed in on her, shifting and contorting with the constant movement of the flares and again she was almost crippled with the feeling that these visions could not be of this earth. They were otherworldly, devastating and _magical_. She was seeing colours she never knew had existed before that moment and could not have identified them even if she'd tried.

"Hermione, are you ok?!" cried Luna from behind her.

"Did it work?!" demanded Draco.

"What are you seeing?" asked Ron fretfully.

In a flash of understanding, Hermione realised what she must look like to the _tovarasi_, who could not see the magic. All they could see was her and she was currently turning slowly on the spot staring around herself at apparently empty space reverentially. Without really thinking, shedecided to try something, sick of being the eyes of the group. She turned to look at them and willed them to see what she was seeing.

Every one of them suddenly gasped. Their eyes widened. Ron was brought to his knees; Luna looked at once filled with a joy so intense, her face crumpled; Padma hid her face in Eli's chest; Juliet cried out; Susan backed away; Isobel began to cry in earnest; Blaise stared on with open mouthed shock ; and Draco actually laughed aloud and covered his mouth with his hands. It was as if all of the terror and knowledge of their current situation had quite simply fallen away from their minds. To Hermione, they all looked like they were staring into the face of God. Which, really, was half true.

Hermione reached out with her magic and urged them all to come to her, just as she had done with Draco all those months ago in her flat. They watched as the green glowing tendrils flew towards them and wrapped around them affectionately, pulling them towards her sanctuary. One by one, they moved, walking zombielike into her spherical cage which widened at Hermione's thought to accommodate them.

"What is this?" asked Ron in awe, staring around at the blinding colour that was slithering and cracking against the outside of their sanctuary.

"This is magic." Hermione replied reverentially, "This is what is around us all the time, Ron. See the tendrils? That's how we interact with the world. That's how we engage with it."

Ron did not reply to this but, as he stared around at the reality of their world, his hand fell around hers and grasped her fingers. Hermione felt his warmth flying through her veins, making her knees almost buckle under the flood of emotion, of love.

Hermione could do nothing for a few moments but stare at his face as he watched the magic. He was beautiful.

"Shall we move on?" she asked of the group quietly, after a moment of this.

Their eyes found hers, each and every one of them wide with awe and reverence. They seemed entirely incapable of speech.

Luna nodded dumbly, "Harry." she whispered slowly.

"Yes. Harry." Hermione confirmed softly. They could not falter in their purpose.

They were, after all, still standing on one side of the Dividing Line, pressed up against the light of the dome. How they were going to get to the other side was a problem she didn't quite know how to solve at that point. She could only hope she could lead her _tovarasi _through the enchantment safely. As was always prudent, as she had come to learn of Dividing Line magic, she let her instincts lead her.

"Stay behind me." she urged of the group, her voice filling the sphere.

Hermione moved forwards, willing the cage to move with her and the _tovarasi_. They huddled in a group behind her, following with reluctant, cautious steps. The colour around them was moving sickeningly faster past them, giving the impression that they were all traveling at great speed though Hermione knew this was not the case. Together, they reached the barrier, the true Dividing line, and Hermione panicked as she felt the enchantments burning into the magic that protected her and her friends. She knew it was not going to work. She knew that the cage was going to fail and she would be protected while her _tovarasi_ were killed.

Her mind span off in several different directions, each leading to a dead end, as she tried desperately to think of something to do. None of it worked. For some reason, all she could think of was every other occasion on which she'd been a hair's breadth away from death. Every other occasion she'd experienced physical pain at the hand of another. Her trauma afflicted brain wouldn't let her do what she did best because it was too busy being triggered into despair and anguish…

All at once she was suddenly filled with an insane fury, a catastrophic rage. Why was her brain trauma afflicted at all? Why was it that she needed to do this? Why was she so broken in the first place? Of course, it began and ended with Voldemort and the damage he'd inflicted upon wizarding society. But no one else would die at Voldemort's hand. _Nothing _was going to stop her getting to him and tearing what remained of his soul to shreds.

Hermione felt her feet leave the ground as she allowed these feelings to fill up her body, to set her skin on fire. As she allowed her instincts to seize total control of her body. She could hear the panicked cries of the _tovarasi _beneath her as she rose towards the room of the protective sphere, but she willed that they be kept safe, that the magic would not harm them. Their sanctuary walls became impenetrable and almost opaque in their brightness. But Hermione drifted through them easily, away from the _tovarasi_. She rose up into the air, exposed and vulnerable. The dome of light stood before her and she felt the flames of its power licking at her skin.

But this was nothing to her. She absorbed the flames, took on their heat and allowed them to scorch her soul. Hermione began gathering; gathering the power, gathering her thoughts, her emotions. From the depths of her psyche she pulled all of the most horrible memories, the worst of her pain and her heartbreak. She allowed her trauma afflicted brain to run rampant. She put all this into a steadily growing ball of fire and ice that was building in her chest. The memory of Bellatrix's _Crucio _joined the knot, as did her heartbreak over Ron, the images of Fred Weasley's face frozen in death, her parent's absence, her own yearning for death, Draco's betrayal, every panic attack she'd ever had, every tear she'd ever wept, ever injury she'd ever sustained. All of it absorbed into the orb of pure chaos that sat in her chest, feeling like it was cracking her ribs, stopping her heart, constricting her lungs…

But even after all that, even when she felt like she was about to split at the seams from all the raw magic she held inside of her, it wasn't enough. The power of the dome was too much and she was too weak. The flames were burning now, and the pain was fogging up her mind. She couldn't do it… She'd failed.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, when Hermione was just on the brink of giving in and allowing the power of the dome of light to kill her, she felt something. New memories were joining the ever growing knot of chaos…

There was Eli, dirty and skeletal, trying to shield a crying woman from the scabbed and rotting hands of a Dementor reaching towards her. The determination on his face was almost eclipsed by the fear and despair. The woman was begging and he was whispering savagely to her, "It's alright mum. I won't let it touch you…"

This morphed and changed into an image of Isobel standing on the edge of a circle of onlookers as Voldemort turned his wand on a tall blonde man. Someone was holding her back, though she wanted to run and cast herself between her father and the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters that surrounded her, ones that had called her father a friend, were laughing and jeering cruelly, drowning out her pleading cries. There was a flash of green light and her father crumpled to the ground…

Isobel's anguished scream echoed through to the next memory where Padma sat, paralyzed in a chair in the muggle studies classroom. She watched on, unable to move for the _petrificus totalas _that had been placed upon her, as Amicus Carrow brought down a hammer onto each of Parvati's fingers individually. She listened to her sister screaming and begging, knowing that she was unable to do anything to prevent it, knowing that she could offer no consolation and no solace afterwards…

The scene dissolved and Hermione's stomach churned as she watched Susan being forced onto the ground, pinned by a group of men in a desolate landscape. She listened as Susan begged and pleaded, her cries echoing through the night. She heard the scream that tore apart her world at the first brutal, life destroying thrust…

Juliet was standing, staring across the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts as tears coursed down her face. The world was quiet but for her soft sniffles. She bent and gauged out a chunk of earth with her wand. Inside the hole she placed a letter before depositing the earth over the top as she whispered, "I'll always love you…"

The image of Juliet faded into a scene of devastation and Hermione recognized it as the aftermath of the final battle. Blaise stood in the entrance of the great hall, a look of shock and pain lining his dark features as he took in the sight of mourning, the dead bodies and their weeping families. He caught sight of Ginny Weasley, her head resting on her mother's shoulder. They locked eyes, Ginny's filled with hatred and accusation. Hermione could almost hear the dialogue that passed between the young witch and wizard. _You could have fought to prevent this, but you did not._

Blaise's face blinked away into a darkness that was filled with screams. Luna materialized on a stone floor, masked and faceless death eaters stood around her, each taking it in turns to utilize the torture curse on the defenseless young woman…

After that, there was a moment of blackness and Hermione knew then what was coming even before it hit. The darkness resolved into an image of Draco's face, just his face. What followed was not one memory but what seemed to be every traumatic experience he'd ever faced, all flashing so quickly that she could barely make them out. She saw him being tortured and torturing others, saw him watching all manner of atrocities, unable to look away… Voldemort's face flashed regularly, always contorted in a look of sadistic malevolence. Hermione felt Draco's fear, potent and crippling. She felt it destroying him…

Suddenly, with a gasp, she found herself back in the present, looking around at the fire that was destroying her body. Her chest was constricted with the most unimaginable pain she'd ever experienced in her life. She no longer felt as if her body was tearing at the seams with all the pent up power, she now felt as if her whole body was about to detonate.

Then, just as she felt she couldn't take it anymore, that's exactly what it did. The knot of chaos in her chest ruptured and exploded catastrophically. And her soul went with it, Hermione physically felt it tearing. The protective enchantments screamed, cracked and the blast that followed caused the road of Privet Drive to splinter.

Hermione stared almost blindly down at the scene of devastation below her. The _tovarasi_ were huddled in a tight group, the protective sphere around them fading now that the danger of the dome was gone.

She felt… Empty. Hollow. Her breath seemed to be coming out easier, like she'd been struggling for months and finally a blockage in her lungs had given way.

Her eyes swept the scene, watching as the magic of the protective enchantments ran down the road like water, as the _tovarasi_ squinted around themselves, their cloaks flapping in the wind.

And in front of her, down on the street with his hands thrown up over his head, was Harry. At his feet, someone was curled up into a ball, trying to avoid the impact of the blast.

Hermione's mind flew with a sudden blast of adrenalin. She rushed downwards to come between the _tovarasi _and the mad wizard, ready to deflect any spell he tried to throw their way. Her feet did not touch the ground as she moved forwards towards him, her face set hard. Her body was so light that she felt with every inhalation, she was taking in all the magic from her surroundings, and then exhaling it again, sending waves of her energy pulsing across the broken road. Her mind was clear, focused and sharp as a knife. It was lethal.

Harry's eyes finally came to rest on her. He scowled and raised his wand, pointing it at the huddled figure on the ground.

"Come any closer and she dies!" he shouted across the distance.

But Hermione did not stop, if anything, she moved faster. "You think I care, Riddle?" she said with a manic laugh, "You think one life means anything to me?! I was there last time; I saw the world you wanted to build… So kill her! It won't stop me killing _you_!" she bellowed, her voice exploding from her chest and sending shock waves out around her.

Fear flashed across his face as she continued to move towards him. After a moment's thought, his wand lifted to point at her. A jet of light exploded from its tip, but Hermione was ready for it. She flicked the spell away as if it were nothing more than a particularly annoying fly.

"Really think normal magic is going to do much here, Riddle? You're going to have to be a little more inventive than that!" cried Hermione condescendingly.

To her surprise, Harry laughed, high and cold and the sound chilled her blood. "You forget who I am, girl."

Hermione's hands shook. "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! I KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" she screamed, but he continued to laugh.

His wand arm dropped and suddenly there was something else in his hand. A tiny vial.

It was then that Hermione made a fatal mistake. She willed the vial to explode in his hands but it did not, no matter how much energy she poured into it. Then she remembered, the Dividing Line was gone. She'd disintegrated it moments before. And _Auxilium _did not work without the Dividing Line…

By the time she realised this however, it was already too late. The potion had disappeared down Harry's throat.

For the briefest of moments, nothing happened and Hermione almost thought that whatever his plan was, it hadn't worked. That it had backfired.

But then, a great pulse of power burst from Harry, sending her flying backwards, tumbling through the air. By the time she'd righted herself, her wand flying to her hand as she prepared to fight, she found, much to her confusion, that Harry was lying immobile on the ground.

Hermione stared for a moment at his inert body, trying to understand what had just happened, what Voldemort had been trying to achieved. Slowly, she drifted towards him warily, though he did not stir. But as she got closer, the huddled figure on the ground did.

Ginny's red hair appeared from under her tattered cloak as the girl heaved herself to her feet. Hermione rushed forward, forgetting all restraint at the sight of her friend.

"Ginny! Are you alright?!" she cried in shakily. She heard the approaching footsteps of the _tovarasi_ coming from behind her all crying out the red head's name in relief as Hermione had done.

Ginny did not reply, simply taking a shaky breath as she swayed on her feet.

"Ginny?" Hermione said again, uncertainly, resting a hand on her friend's shoulder.

Suddenly the younger girl's hand shot out and wrapped around Hermione's throat and she found herself looking into black, emotionless eyes.

"Sacrifice her now, mudblood." said Harry's voice from Ginny's mouth.

Hermione gasped for breath, choking as she clawed desperately at the hands on her throat, much stronger than they usually would have been. They tightened.

Ginny then quickly pulled from her pocket a wand Hermione recognized. It was Harry's. She pointed at the approaching group, who had broken into a sprint in order to help Hermione, their shouts and cries muffled in her ears.

"_Protego Totalum_!" she shouted and a silvery light burst from the wand's tip. The anguished cries of the _tovarasi_ echoed around the street when they found their way blocked.

"Do you see? Do you see now? This is why you are unworthy. This is why you mean nothing. My blood is pure therefore I may wield this power, a power that far outstrips your own. You are undeserving, stupid girl. Did you really expect to be able to stumble upon a hidden dark magic that I myself have not yet come across? Did you really expect to surprise me?" asked Ginny in Harry's voice, "Now we are matched, our power is equal and we battle on intelligence alone. And you, mudblood, have lost."

Ginny smiled grotesquely, her black eyes boring into Hermione's soul. Harry's sense of triumph was almost palpable in the air.

Hermione's mind was beginning to fade, she could feel it, there was a black fuzz distorting the edges of her vision. The younger girl's fingers were crushing her windpipe. Hermione was dying.

"FIGHT BACK, HERMIONE!" screamed Ron from behind her, breaking through the clamor of the _tovarasi_'_s _frantic voices. "FIGHT BACK!"

Hermione felt the urge to defend herself rising in her throat like bile, but at the same time she could not bring herself to cast the myriad of violently defensive spells that sprung to her mind. No matter what she'd said to Harry, she could not just hurt Ginny. But try as she might she couldn't think of anything to do that wouldn't. The black fuzz was clogging up her mind, she couldn't think properly at all. Panic was seizing up her limbs as the same totally useless spells kept presenting themselves to her. It was like she was back in first year. Someone was choking her, she was going to die and the only spells she could think of were _alohamora _and _wingardium leviosa_…

Hermione's eyes began to water as the grief sunk into her skin. She grieved for her failure, for her own life that would soon be lost. She'd always heard people describing their near death experiences as having their lives flash before their eyes. Hermione did not feel that, she just felt stupid. She felt shame. But somewhere in the back of her mind, logic was slowly overriding the panic and the grief.

Suddenly, an idea came to her. _She could use the bond_.

Hermione focused her remaining energy then, and she converted it to love, all the love she felt for Ginny, how grateful she was for her, how much she respected her as a person. She willed the feelings to seep into the fingers that were slowly suffocating her, to travel through their bond, the bond they'd built over so long a time with their love and their trust.

Ginny's grip mercifully slackened and Hermione took her chance. Hating herself with every inch of her being, she shoved her wand into Ginny's ribs and thought, as hard as she could, "_Repulsio_."

The repulsion jinx worked, Ginny's hand disappeared from around her throat as if it had been burned and she stumbled backwards.

Hermione instantly withdrew as far as the shield charm would allow her, not wanting to stay within reach of Ginny's powerful fists. She had only the briefest of moments to consider ripping apart the charm so as to allow the _tovarasi_ access, before a curse whizzed past her ear and clattered against the barrier behind her. Her head was still spinning. She was still taking great gasps of air, trying to bring the oxygen back to her starved brain.

Hermione's wand flew through the air, clumsily deflecting another attack. Ginny stood slightly below her, the wind whipping her red hair around her face like flames, her black eyes burning evilly.

All Hermione could do for a while was cast a number of shield charms as she attempted to get her bearings back. But eventually, her defense turned to offence.

Harry's wand sliced through the air faster than Hermione had ever seen it as they dueled. The style of the magic Ginny was using had changed from Hermione's earlier duel with Harry, it was more animalistic, more cruel, which led her to believe that Voldemort had almost taken him over entirely.

Suddenly, one of Hermione's jinx's flew under Ginny's arm and cracked on her chest, sending the younger girl flying backwards. Hermione seized the opportunity and spun round, her hands digging into the shield charm and ripping it apart, just as she had done in the forest of Dean only days ago.

The _tovarasi_ surged forward. Ropes flew from Isobel's wand and landed on Ginny, who was just pushing herself to her feet. They wrapped around her body and she fell again, face first into the asphalt with an inhuman scream of fury.

Hermione rushed forwards, speeding through the air towards Harry's immobile body.

"HOLD HIM!" she bellowed. Instantly Draco, Blaise and Ron fell on him, pinning his arms and legs to the ground. His wand clattered across the asphalt as she slapped it from his hand. She saw out of the corner of her eye, Ginny's body still and knew before it had even happened that Harry would be back with them momentarily. Sure enough, after only a moment, Ron, Draco and Blaise's grips tightened as Harry came fully back into himself and began to thrash wildly. His head cracked repeatedly against the road in his rage. He hurled abuse and curses at Hermione as she came to rest at his head. She placed her hands firmly on each of his temples and took a deep gulp of air.

With that, she forced herself into his mind in one exhaled breath. Her vision and her awareness of the present blinked out as the reality of Harry's mind engulfed her.

Hermione felt mental barriers and protections snapping and disintegrating at her assault as she moved her consciousness like a knife through Harry's psyche. His mind was nothing but noise and chaos, black tar and cancerous fog as she pushed on through the turmoil of memories, a combination of Voldemort's and Harry's.

Finally, abruptly, she reached a space that no noise seemed to reach. The silence was so complete that her ears rang with it. After the pandemonium of Privet Drive and then the disorder of the upper levels of Harry's mind, this place was far too quiet and far too _empty_.

But strangely she knew it was where she needed to be. Just like Draco's mind, she found herself to be standing in a vast cavernous space, but the darkness was more complete than that she'd previously experienced. She had the distinct impression of being unwelcome.

Hermione could do nothing but walk. Her footsteps did not echo, rather, they sounded muffled and she felt consciously as if there were other things moving along beside her that she could not see. Every now and then something would brush, ever so lightly, against her arm. Each time it made her jump.

But suddenly, she environment changed, though not perceptively. The _feeling _of it changed.

In what she assumed was the centre of the space, sat something she couldn't quite make out. It was more of an idea than anything really tangible. But it was more tangible than the vague brushes on her arm as she had walked. She could _feel_ it there, but she could also almost see, taste, smell and hear it.

And Hermione knew that this was the essence of a _soul_.

But now that she'd come down to it, now that she was faced with the last remnant of Voldemort, now that she was standing there in the very epicenter of Harry's troubled mind, she didn't quite know what to do. She did not know how to use her mind to rip apart Voldemort's last link to life.

Hermione knew there was only one thing for it. Somehow she would have to push this malignant growth back into the wand from whence it came. Then it was nothing more than a Horcrux. Then, she knew how it could be destroyed.

But there was only one way she could think to achieve this, one way that she could move the fragment of Voldemort's soul, unwillingly back into its home.

She'd have to take it on herself. Then, with the power of the _Zeitei Otrava_, she knew she could force it into the wand. From Harry's mind no, but from her mind… Yes.

It was the only way.

Hermione walked forwards through the blackness towards this repulsive idea, towards the dull, throbbing beat of malevolence that sat in the middle of the space. Then, after a brief pause, she walked _into _it.

Instantly, she felt it sinking into her and she welcomed it, though it felt like the most vile, evil thing she'd ever done, worse than anything else. Voldemort's essence was sniffing her out like a wary dog, riffling through her mind, through her memories tentatively. She opened herself to him. He pawed through her organs, tasted her blood, her power.

And she was _not _found wanting.

Suddenly, the presence filled her to the brink, nesting itself in her consciousness and Hermione knew she'd done it, knew she had succeeded. Voldemort was inside her. His soul had become a part of _her_.

Without a second thought, apart from a flash of self righteous fury, Hermione violently and fiercely yanked herself out of Harry's mind, feeling her own snap back painfully into her body.

She opened her eyes.

The scene was too loud, too busy. She couldn't handle it. She immediately wanted the silence of Harry's mind back again. The _tovarasi _were rushing to and fro, huddling around Ginny and Harry both of whom were unconscious, Padma already casting diagnostic's on them. Only Draco was looking at her.

"Is it done?" he asked lowly and the heads of the rest of the group snapped up to look at her. Suddenly, the scene was still and quiet.

She nodded dumbly and slumped backwards, her head spinning. She could still feel Voldemort all through her body, singing through her blood. But there was something else…

"How did you do it Hermione? How did you destroy it?" asked Ron seriously and with a touch of awe.

She could not speak, could not answer him. There was something happening inside her that was seizing all of her attention.

Draco's eyes widened slightly. "She hasn't destroyed it." he said softly, "She's taken it into herself…"

A wave of fear and panic swept off the group and cascaded over Hermione, only serving to confuse her further and make her head feel like it was about to fall off her shoulders.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Isobel, "What is he talking about Hermione?!"

But again, Hermione did not answer.

She stood, feeling the ground fall away under her feet as she rose into the air, feeling all at once a full awareness of the power she held. Her emotions were boiling to the surface as she realised something. Something catastrophic. Voldemort, the greatest dark wizard to have ever lived, was one kind of powerful. As was Grindelwald. And Dumbledore too… But she, Hermione Granger, was now another kind. The ultimate kind. The apocalyptic kind. Because she had taken him in, taken in his knowledge and his power, but she also had her own. And, because she was a woman, she had the Goddess's Line, the one magic that had always been closed to Voldemort and Grindelwald and Dumbledore. They, who had been unworthy, who were nothing but mere men trying to play with the fabric of reality, mortality and morality.

And they'd failed.

But _she _wouldn't if she tried.

Instead of a Dark Lord, the wizarding world could have a Queen.

A sense of jubilation, of triumph echoed through Hermione's body. No one would be able to defeat her, no one would be able to bring her down. The tone of male supremacy that ran through the wizarding world would be crushed under her power. And they would not be able to resist… They would have no choice but to _bow down_.

Hermione's eyes fell on the _tovarasi_, her most loyal subjects. Would they stand behind her in the new age that she could create? Would they truly understand this blinding vision of the future she was having?

A fleeting thought floated through the back of her mind though, as she looked down at them. Why did they all have their wands out? Did they think to fight her?

The _tovarasi_ stared up at her and she down at them. The silence was thick with their terror and her power.

Slowly, Draco stepped forward, away from the group and she sunk down towards him until they were almost face to face. He was so close she could almost taste his kiss…

"My lord?" he breathed so that only she might hear.

Hermione stared at him for a long time. Her mind had slowed to a halt at what he'd said. His tone had been unmistakable. It was reverential.

"I am no _lord_." she hissed.

Her voice was high and cold and it was that fact that made reality suddenly crash back through her mind, breaking this trance that she'd been in, snapping her thoughts out of Voldemort's lies, wielding the bluntest of instruments. The truth.

She was Hermione Granger. _Not _a Dark Queen. She was kind and compassionate and stubborn and smart. She loved Ron and Draco, she loved her friends, she was trying to save Harry and Ginny.

The part of Voldemort inside her screamed in protest as she pushed it into a corner, no longer influenced by its poison.

Hermione lunged at his wand, that lay on the asphalt. The moment her fingers closed around the thin stick of wood she used all of her will, every ounce of her strength and power to tear the piece of soul out of her psyche and push it into the object in her hands.

It felt as if she were literally bleeding herself out, pushing out every single part of herself. Once it was gone, once the presence was no longer filling her veins, she almost wanted to cry with the grief of it.

As the last of Voldemort's blackened and broken essence left her body, a great sigh heaved out of her chest and she looked back at her moment of insanity with fear. What she had just done was dangerous, what if her willpower had not been enough?

Hermione produced her own wand from her pocket and laid Voldemort's on the ground in front of her, trying to keep her colossal grief at bay.

"_Fende Ignis_." she whispered as softly as she could, her voice breaking.

A tiny flaming bird erupted from the end of her wand and landed on the ground, instantly growing rapidly, multiplying with terrific speed.

When it hit the white wood of Voldemort's wand, Hermione heard, with an air of anticlimactic finality, a distant and resounding scream.

The Horcrux, the last piece of Voldemort that remained in their world, was destroyed.

"_Abit Dyabolum_." she incanted and the fiend fire burnt out with a puff of whitish smoke.

She stared down at the burnt husk that bled a vile black liquid onto the road.

"It's over." she said softly to her companions, "It's done."

Hermione felt soft, affectionate hands on her shoulders. She turned around to see Ron staring down at her in concern.

"Fiend fire." he said quietly.

Hermione nodded dumbly. "The instructions were written in one of the books Draco leant me… I thought it might come in handy…" The echo in her voice was fading. The potion was finally wearing off. She was so tired…

"How did… how did you help? With the barrier?" she asked of the _tovarasi_, her voice rasping.

"Draco gave us the potion." said Isobel, staring wide eyed down at the pile of ash that had once been a Horcrux. "It didn't work as well for us as it did for him but… It helped…"

Hermione turned her head to look at Draco but he was staring down at the ground at his feet, a deep and disturbed frown creasing forehead.

Only she knew why he frowned. Only she knew what he'd said.

But she was too tired to think about that now, to think about Draco's final betrayal. And it _had _been a betrayal… His tone had not been fearful, it had been reverent, a tone of worship.

She looked back down at her scratched and bloodied hands, feeling more and more human as the moments ticked on. The scents were fading… The colour was almost gone…

Suddenly, Ron's head snapped up when a series of loud pops announced the apparition of a series of Aurors and the Minister. Hermione looked up only momentarily to ascertain that it was not any further danger.

"Padma?" she breathed, her eyelids drooping. Padma rushed to her side. "Is… is Ginny ok?"

"She'll be fine." said Padma, her voice thick with emotion.

"And Harry?"

"I… I don't know."

Hermione nodded sadly. "I think… I think I'd like to sleep now." she said quietly, her eyes unfocused. Before anyone could respond, her head lolled sideways on her shoulder as she pitched sideways. Ron caught her before she hit the road.

The vibrant colour of her dreams took her.

* * *

A/N It's not the end, don't worry! But oh my god guys, where have my reviewers gone?! I was sad to see so little feedback :(

Come on! I need my cheer squad into the end! I need your love and support!

Much love, as always,

Desdemona


	38. Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

OLD, OLD SONG

_"While history is outside writing a recipe book for every earthly pain; this song is inside, finger painting dark swirls again and again and they all look the same."_

It started with a breath.

The softest breath.

And there was so much emotion in that breath. It was defeated, sad, tired and wretched. Poor breath.

And that is where Hermione woke, coming out of the other side of the madness that had torn apart her life since she was eleven. She woke in the breath.

But it wasn't hers.

Slowly, she pushed her mind through her consciousness, urging herself to rise out of sleep. It was harder than it should have been. She'd been asleep for a long time. But she was used to that by then. Trauma did that to her, didn't it? It knocked her out as surely as a blow to the head. She realised that now. She didn't fear it anymore.

Hermione's eyelids flickered like her awareness. Her mind flickered.

But through all of the fog and flickering light in her head, one fact prevailed over all others, one that would not be suppressed by sleep: Voldemort was dead. There was no question now, no uncertainty. The Dark Lord was no longer a part of their world. Hermione allowed herself to roll that idea around in her mind for a while as she lay there, her eyes closed, until she began to take in what else she could of her present.

She knew she was in a bed. And it was a hard, unforgiving, institutional kind of bed. Not her own.

The room was dark when her eyes finally opened, sliced by moonlight filtering through the blinds of a window. Her flat didn't have blinds. She turned her head a little to see.

There was someone sleeping in a chair beside her institutional bed and suddenly, Hermione became almost sick with yearning at the sight of them. Was it Ron? Was he there, as he'd always been, at her side and taking care of her? Or was it Draco? Did his devotion, his love for her, extend past his betrayal?

Hermione groaned because she could not speak. And if she could, she didn't know what to say. How did one sum up everything that had taken place? What questions was she supposed to ask when the only two that blossomed in her mind were…

_How many people had lost their lives this time? And was Voldemort _really _gone for good?_

At her groan, the figure shifted and a familiar curtain of blonde hair glinted in the moonlight.

Of course. Isobel. Her best friend. Her soul mate.

The tears were there then and she suddenly realised she'd been crying the whole time, she just hadn't been aware of it. Her mind was so detached from her body…

Isobel lifted her head, but Hermione could not see her face, silhouetted as she was against the moonlight.

"Hermione?" she asked urgently, standing and rushing over to the bed. With a flick of her wand, the lamps were lit, bathing the two girls in a golden glow. "Hermione, are you alright?!"

"Where… Where am I?" Hermione rasped with a huge amount of effort. Despite her detachment, she needed answers, she needed information.

"St Mungos." Isobel replied.

"How long?"

"Three days."

Hermione nodded. She'd thought as much. As she became more and more conscious, she began to remember all of the _other _questions she should be asking, all the other information she needed to know.

"Harry?"

Isobel sighed and Hermione felt her heart drop out of her chest and land wetly on the floor.

"He's… he's in a coma. They don't know why." the younger girl ran a hand through her hair and Hermione knew the blunt truth was coming, she knew Isobel well enough by then. "They're not holding out much hope, Hermione."

She cried for a long time then and Isobel's thumb ran circles on the back of her hand as she held it.

Hermione had known that it might end with her death, maybe even with Harry's, but the reality was so much more devastating than that knowledge. It still felt like failure if Harry died…

"Ginny's alright though…" said Isobel quietly after a while, "She had a few, uh, lacerations on her wrists… We think because of the blood magic… But otherwise she's ok."

"Ron?" asked Hermione, her voice thick.

"Well… As good as can be expected… pretty torn up. He's a good guy though. He'll be alright in the end I think." Isobel replied kindly.

"Draco?"

Isobel shifted uncomfortably, "We… We haven't seen him since that night… The rest of the _tovarasi_ have been here every day but Draco… He's gone."

Hermione nodded again. She'd expected that, expected that he'd run. He was just as talented at that as she was. That's why they'd been so good together. But it still hurt to know that he wasn't being there for people he'd called his friends. That's what loyalty should have been about, sticking around for the people you loved even when it got hard. And Hermione didn't understand what had happened to him because he'd been like that once, he'd stuck around to help no matter what the group was going through. What was it that made that just disappear? Had it gotten _too _hard?

If she was honest with herself, she could understand entirely if that was the case. She probably would have run away from the Dark Lord if she'd had the choice. But then there was the difference between them; when it came to combating the dark arts and fighting for freedom, Hermione would act like she had no choice, even if she did… and Draco would act like he _had _a choice, even if he didn't. She'd always stay and he'd always run. But it had come to the point now that Hermione didn't really know which was the saner option. Did the majority dictate that? Because the _tovarasi _had stuck around to help Harry. And if they hadn't, she'd probably be dead and so would he. He might be as good as dead already…

"I want to see Harry." she suddenly.

Isobel started at her sudden outburst, "Hermione, I don't think that's…"

But she wasn't listening. Hermione tried to hoist herself up on her arms only to be suddenly crippled by an excruciating throbbing pain shooting up from her wrists to her shoulders. She cried out and fell back on the bed.

"Oh shit…" said Isobel, looking down at Hermione's arms.

Hermione lifted them into the moonlight. They were covered in bandages… Bandages that were rapidly turning red.

"What the fuck?!" she cried in shock.

Isobel had begun to cry as she leapt to her feet. "I… I have to get the healer!"

"Isobel what the fuck happened to my arms?!" Hermione demanded, her voice cracking. She reached out and seized Isobel's wrist, though it was agony, to force her friend to answer the question.

The younger girl began to sob, trying to pull away, "The… the protective enchantments… they burnt you Hermione! _Please_ let me go and get the healer! You're bleeding everywhere!"

Hermione let her go and, as Isobel raced from the room, lifted her head to look at the rest of her body. She threw back the sheet and howled in anguish. Her whole body was covered with the same bandages… Her whole body…

Three healers suddenly burst into the room, followed by Isobel, Ron and Ginny.

"Miss Granger! _LAY DOWN_!" cried one of the healers frantically. "You've gone and torn open all the wounds!"

"NO! What happened to me?! What happened to my body?!" Hermione shouted, trying to shift some of the bandages on her stomach. She just wanted to see. She _needed _to see the evidence of the burns…

"Hermione! You need to lay down!" yelled Ron, moving to tower above her. "With every movement, you're making it worse!"

One of the other healers appeared in her line of vision, holding a vial. "Miss Granger, drink this please!" she said in a brisk, businesslike tone.

"No! I want to be awake! I won't let you drug me!" Hermione hissed hysterically, pushing the healer's hand away.

Ron snatched the vial from the woman's hand and glared at her before looking down at Hermione. She watched his eyes as they flickered between both of hers.

"Lay down." he said, softly but firmly. Hermione didn't move for a moment and he laid his hands on her shoulders. Eventually, she allowed him to push her gently onto her back. He lifted a hand to brush over her hair, the look on his face tired and loving. "Please drink it Hermione, ok? It'll help. Trust me."

After a moment, she nodded and allowed him to tip the contents of the vial into her mouth. She immediately felt groggy.

"I'll tell you everything tomorrow." said Ron quietly.

Hermione trusted him. She allowed herself to sleep, vaguely aware of the healers bustling around her bed, of the bandages being cut off and of a vague, stinging pain.

* * *

For three weeks after that, Hermione was confined to her St Mungos bed.

The healers had told her that the burns on her arms, worse than anywhere else on her body, would scar, but assured her that even those would fade in time. By the time she was ready to be discharged, her legs and torso were back to normal, but she wouldn't be wearing short sleeves again anytime soon. The skin of her hands and arms looked like it had aged fifty years and was extra sensitive to any kind of touch, the nerves raw.

Just as Ron had promised, he had come to her the morning after she'd woken up and told her everything. He'd told her about Harry mostly, and what the healers were trying to do for him to get him to wake up. Though, of course, Hermione had thought that they could be doing more.

He told her about how the battle had looked from their perspective, how they had simply watched her moving about the apparently empty street, her face a mask of awe. Then there was that blinding vision when she'd willed them to see what she'd been seeing, and how they'd moved into her protective sphere. Ron's voice echoed the desperation he'd felt when Hermione had risen out of their cage, how Draco had had the idea to give them the _Zeitei Otrava_ so that they could help, how it had worked for the rest of the _tovarasi_ because of the bond but it hadn't worked for Ron, who said that it was one of the worst things he'd ever put in his mouth. She could understand that. It was, after all, the essence of her and Draco…

Hermione found herself caught up in worry over the legal implications of what had taken place. Would Harry go to Azkaban? Would _she_? They had both broken the law, both had used forbidden dark magic. And what of Teodora and the _tovarasi_? Teodora who had given them the magic and the _tovarasi _who had gone against the Minister's wishes.

But Ron, as usual, soothed her out of these worries too. The Minister seemed willing to turn a blind eye to their doings, given the result, just as he had done after the final battle. Though, unfortunately, Harry _would_ have to stand trial if he ever woke. But with Hermione's statement of all that taken place, Ron felt sure that he would not be charged.

The final question Hermione had, was for Ginny, though Ron answered that too. She wanted to know how the younger girl had come to be in Harry's company to begin with. And the answer was remarkably simple. Harry had appeared on Hermione's balcony very late at night, clothed in the invisibility cloak and had used the _imperius _curse on his former girlfriend. No one knew why he needed Ginny, why he had not targeted Hermione when he had appeared to thirst for _her _blood far more… But these were all questions that would have to be answered when Harry woke… _If_ he woke.

After that conversation, Hermione's flow of visitors was steady and unrelenting. Sometimes she minded this, sometimes she did not. The _tovarasi_ were her most frequent, excluding Draco of course, who had not been seen or heard from in weeks. Other than them, she'd seen Teodora who'd been proud, Professor McGonagall who'd been almost beside herself and Kingsley Shacklebolt who'd come to take her statement regarding Harry's ordeal and had then spent a good hour ranting at her about the irresponsibility of her actions. She'd also seen the Weasleys, all of them. Bill had come by with Fleur and Charlie briefly, George had sat by her bed for almost an entire day making her laugh as he showcased a range of new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products; and Molly and Arthur had come to thank her profusely for saving their daughter and see how she was doing. Molly seemed normal again, which made Hermione's heart glow. It seemed that the new threat, of which the Weasley's had been more informed of than she'd thought, had snapped Molly out of her funk. Hermione was glad to have helped, but sad that it had taken so much.

And so it was that three long weeks almost to the day since the night in Privet Drive, Hermione found herself striding out of the hospital purposefully. The _tovarasi_ had wanted to join her, but Hermione had refused. She'd told them all, including Ron, Teodora and McGonagall, that she wanted to be left well alone for a while. It had been her first and only brief visit to Harry that had forced her to that decision. Seeing him lying there, still as death, his chest barely moving with his breath, had made her feel that her work was far from done. Harry still hadn't been saved.

Hermione apparated not back to her flat that day, but to Hogwarts. She strode up the lawn and into the school purposefully, ignoring any calls of greeting or questions from the students or teachers. She emerged only a short time later clutching a piece of parchment.

It was then that she apparated back to Diagon Alley, only stopping by her flat briefly to pick up the heaviest cloak she owned, the one that would conceal her the best. As an afterthought, she cast a few glamour charms on her face, changing the colour of her eyes and darkening her skin. Anyone who knew her would see through the ruse easily, but she didn't plan on seeing anyone she knew.

Hermione pulled her hood over her face as she strode back out onto the street and turned right. The entrance to Knockturn Alley loomed her vision and, without a backward glance, she slipped inside.

It was just as she'd remembered it. The air was heavy and hard to breath in, the crowds and the stench pushed in on her from all directions. But she did not feel fear this time. She had a purpose from which she would not be swayed.

When a hand grabbed onto her wrist, Hermione did not hesitate to whip out her wand and cast a fast _Repulsio_. She would not be detained. The hand let go instantly.

Hermione quickly found the shop front she was looking for and a pouch of gold jingled temptingly in her hand as she entered and approached the shop keeper. He looked at her with a hard, critical eye and Hermione pushed a piece of parchment towards him.

"Find me all of these things and it will be worth your while." she said lowly, allowing the pouch of galleons to bang against her arms invitingly.

The bedraggled shop keep swept up the piece of parchment, his beetle like eyes sweeping across it quickly. They widened slightly at what they saw.

"An' wha' if I don't?" he grunted.

Hermione let the tip of her wand peek out from the folds of her cloak. "We'll talk about that when you've refused me." she growled.

The man looked at her wand tip for a moment before nodding stiffly and disappearing into the back of his shop. He emerged some minutes later with a wooden chest, which clunked loudly as he set it down on the counter.

"Fifty galleons." he grunted.

Hermione snorted and tucked the chest under her arm, throwing the pouch onto the counter. "There's thirty. Enjoy the rest of your day."

"Now look here, friend…!" exclaimed the man.

She rounded on him, her wand again pointing out of the folds of her cloak. "Do you really want to try to wrought me, _friend_? You know what these are used for. And you know what kind of people use them. Don't be so foolish!"

The man glared at her for a moment before nodding stiffly, "Didn't mean no offence Madam. Good day to you."

Hermione strode out of the dank and musty shop without a backward glance. She kept her head down and her hand wrapped around the wand in her pocket as she moved through the crowds.

Eventually, she burst out of Knockturn Alley and into the sunlight that hung over Diagon Alley, instantly feeling as if she could breathe easier. She walked briskly back up to her flat and once inside, dropped the box onto her coffee table.

From a cupboard in the kitchen, Hermione pulled out the _cazan _Draco had given to her. She set it next to the box, pulled off her cloak and rolled up her sleeves.

It was time to start brewing.

* * *

"How can I help you, miss Granger?" asked the Welcome Witch in a politely vacant voice as Hermione approached the front desk at St Mungos late that night.

"I need to see Harry Potter." Hermione replied, shifting her beaded bag on her shoulder.

"Ah… I'm sorry but visiting hours are over." said the girl apologetically.

"Well, if I see any visitors, I'll let them know." said Hermione, striding past the front desk and down the corridor.

The Welcome Witch did not make any attempt to argue, all the better for her, as Hermione mounted the stairs. She did not need to be directed to Harry's room.

When she reached it, she was glad to see that he was alone, still in the same state. He had not moved in three weeks.

"Hi Harry." said Hermione softly when she entered the room. She closed the door behind her and tapped the lock with her wand. She did not want to be interrupted. "I've brought something for you."

Hermione went to sit by his bed, conjuring a table beside her on which she lay her beaded bag. From it she withdrew the _cazan_, magically shielded so that none of the potion could escape.

"I know that this isn't really responsible… and I'm breaking so many laws right now. But you wouldn't mind that would you? You never did… I just have to do something, Harry. I'm sick of watching these stupid healers scratch their heads and do nothing." she whispered as she began to pull more objects from her bag, "And I can't have you not waking up. That's not how it's supposed to end, Harry. It's just not."

Hermione banished the charm holding the potion in the _cazan _as it sat on the table, and took up a small silver dagger.

"I'm sorry if this hurts." she said as she lifted Harry's hand in her own scarred one. She held it over the _cazan_ and pressed the dagger into one of his fingertips. Nine drops of his blood fell into the potion before Hermione tapped his finger with her wand and the bleeding stopped.

The potion turned from the clear, water like substance it had been, to the brightest, shimmering blue. Hermione ladled some of it into a goblet.

"This is the _Rusine _potion Harry. And I'm going to give it to you because I know you. And I know that you sleep because you feel shame. I know what that shame feels like. This will help." The tears slid down her cheeks quietly as she spoke and lifted the goblet to Harry's mouth which she used her other hand to pull open.

With the aid of her wand, the potion slid down his throat.

Hermione sat back and sighed. She did not expect anything to happen immediately, the _Rusine _took a long time to work…

But just as she had begun to pack up her things, putting another shield around the _cazan_, planning to deposit the potion into more easily carried vials when she got home, Harry let out a long breath, like a sigh and was still again.

Hermione's head snapped up and she stood, leaning over Harry's face. Her eyes rushed over his features, trying to note any change. "Harry?! Can you hear me?!" she whispered urgently.

There was no response, but as Hermione left the wizarding hospital minutes later, bound once again, for home, she smiled. She knew it would work.

* * *

For three weeks after that, Hermione visited Harry every night. The Welcome Witch had stopped even asking when she strode through the front doors late every evening.

She fed Harry the _Rusine _potion diligently, always making sure that he swallowed every drop and every time, the same sigh would escape from his chest after his dose.

No one knew she did this, except the Welcome Witch, who Hermione had paid to remain silent on the subject. The only other person who knew, though Hermione had never told her, was Teodora from whom Hermione had procured the recipe all those weeks ago.

Every time they saw each other, Teodora would only ask, "How is Harry?" to which Hermione would reply, "Getting better." and that was it.

She remained always slightly withdrawn from the rest of the _tovarasi_. Not enough for them to take serious note, but enough to keep her own comfort. She wasn't falling back into depression as she once would have, but she craved her own company and this was something new. She wanted to be with her thoughts, did not want to distract anymore. She wanted to become comfortable with herself. And the only way she could think to do that was to seek out her own company as often as possible.

One night, towards the end of may, Hermione sat by Harry's bed, thinking. Having just given him his dosage, there was no more reason for her to be there, but for some reason, she was taking some comfort in his presence that night. Ginny had reported to her days earlier that Harry's fingers had been twitching. She allowed herself to hope that he was more aware than he was before…

"I don't really know where to go from here, Harry." she was saying, her head resting on the bed next to his hand. "There's no more school now is there? I have to start to think about what I want to do for the rest of my life… And I don't know that I want to live in my flat anymore. It feels like… Like that part of my life is over. Do you know what I mean? Maybe… Maybe I could go back to the Burrow. Molly's better now, you should see her. She cooks again. And Ron's there too, he's talking to me again… And Ginny's alright. She's scared I think, but she loves you. And she misses you…" Hermione's head collapsed down onto her arms. "Oh, Harry! I wish you were here. I wish you could tell me what to do…"

Hermione fell into silence as her mind continued on with the conversation. Of course, Harry did not move or respond, but she didn't expect him to.

Moments later, her head snapped up as the lock on the door clicked and it swung open. Hermione knew no danger could reach her in St Mungos, not now anyway, but her hand found her wand all the same.

Someone stepped into the room and for a moment, she couldn't make them out at all, their body silhouetted against the blinding light of the corridor. But then she knew, her heart beating like a war drum in her chest.

"What are you doing here, Draco?" she asked tiredly, trying to keep her tumultuous emotions from showing in her voice.

"I was looking for you." he replied softly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Why?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Well… I thought that given everything we've been through and… and what we had, it didn't seem to do any of it justice to just never speak again. Even though I know that's what you want."

"I don't know what I want." said Hermione quietly. Draco did not respond. Instead, he stood at the end of Harry's bed, looking down at his hands. After a moment, she spoke again, "Why now? You've been gone for weeks, no one's heard from you. Where have you been? The _tovarasi_ needed you…"

Draco had the good grace to look guilty. "I know… I know… I should have stayed. But, I've had some time to think now. A lot of things have become clear to me lately. And I wanted to say that I'm sorry for everything I did."

There was no plea in his tone, he was not offering a 'please forgive me' kind of sorry. And Hermione found she liked that. She liked that he was finally offering something of himself without any expectations of what he'd get in return. But that didn't change what he'd already done unfortunately.

"Can you offer any explanation for your actions?" asked Hermione seriously.

"Yes and no. Not one that you'd understand I don't think."

"Try."

Draco sighed again, "Well it all kind of escalated didn't it? That night we found the memory, well, I was just scared. Scared of the Dark Lord and scared that I'd lose you to the fight. Not that you'd die or anything, just that you'd forget me while you were off saving the world. I know how selfish that sounds… I just… I felt like I'd finally found something good, something that made my life just a little bit better and I didn't want to lose it. But then I thought that if I went with you, the Dark Lord would kill me. And he tried didn't he? So I was trying to decide what was worth more… My life or yours. Should have been an easy decision really. But it wasn't."

Hermione's mind was reeling with what he was saying. He was both confirming her worst fears about him, but she also admired his honesty. "And what about what you said that night in Privet Drive?"

Draco looked less comfortable then. He couldn't look at her when he spoke. "I'm a Slytherin, Hermione. I'm drawn to power and when you were there like that, and I knew that you had the Dark Lord inside you, I could feel it radiating off you, all I could think of was what you could do to the world, of the power you wielded. I didn't think of all the people who would be oppressed or tortured or killed, I just thought of what we could gain… It was… An ugly moment. And I'm glad you could defeat that within yourself. It makes me admire you more than words can communicate."

Hermione looked at him for a long time, could understand what he meant perfectly. She knew exactly what that felt like. "Alright." she said, "I accept your apology, Draco. I get it."

"Thank you." he said, sighing in what sounded like relief. After a moment of awkward silence in which he seemed to debate with himself about whether to leave or stay, he spoke. "I also have something I wanted to show you…"

"What is it?"

Draco did not answer. Instead, he shrugged off his cloak and unbuttoned the right cuff of his shirt. Hermione stared on in confusion until he pulled his sleeve up and bared his forearm to her. His unmarked forearm. He looked up at her expectantly.

"What am I supposed to be seeing here, Draco?" she asked wearily.

As an answer, he unbuttoned the cuff of the left sleeve and pulled that up too. He then stood, baring both pale, unblemished arms to her and finally, it clicked.

"The Dark Mark is gone." she whispered, her hand fluttering against her cheek.

He nodded.

"So that means…?" she breathed.

"The Dark Lord is really gone." he finished for her. "I thought you should know."

There were a few moments of silence then and Hermione looked at Harry. His fingers had begun to twitch so she put her hand over his, hoping that it could provide some comfort to him in what dream he was having. She hoped desperately then that he would wake up, so that she could share that news with him, so that he could finally lay that part of his life to rest.

"Will he be alright?" asked Draco, after a minute, his eyes following her own.

"Yes." she said with conviction. "He gets better every day."

"And are _you _alright, Hermione?"

She smiled slightly, "Yes. I'm fine. Surprisingly. Not distracting anymore."

"That's good." said Draco.

Hermione turned to look at him again, to take in his appearance, his aura. He looked slightly dishevelled in his immaculate black robes. His face paler, more pointed that she remembered. But, she realised then, no matter how sick or disturbed he looked, no matter what he'd done, he was still beautiful to her.

"I've been thinking." she said slowly, deciding to say it out loud, "About us."

"Oh?"

"It's like you said… After everything we've been through, everything we had, it feels wrong to just let it go. I feel like… Like maybe we should fight for it."

Draco frowned. "Really? You think you can forgive me for everything that's happened?"

Hermione buried her face in her hands, "I don't know. I really don't know… On the one hand I so want this with you Draco, I want a life. But at the same time, I feel… unsafe. I don't know if I could ever believe that you wouldn't betray me again if your own skin was in jeopardy."

To her alarm, Draco came then to kneel next to her chair. It scared her because it almost felt like it hurt her more, the closer he was. He took one of her hands in his and the contact of their skins made Hermione's chest ache.

"I think I might be able to make this easier for you, Hermione," he said quietly, his eyes shining glassily with tears. He put her hand over his heart so that she could feel it beating under her palm. "I would give you this, my pulse, my breath, if I thought it might be useful to you. But it's not. I will never love you like Weasley does."

Hermione balked. "What?! What does Ron have to do with _us_?!" she exclaimed in confusion yanking her hand away.

"He loves you. Unconditionally. The things he's done for you…"

Hermione resisted the temptation to scoff. "What exactly do you think he'd done for me that makes him deserve my love?! He left! Just like you did!"

Draco grimaced. "I know but… He… He left for different reasons. Better reasons."

"And how in the hell would you know what his reasons were?!" demanded Hermione indignantly.

Draco shook his head and stood, walking away from her. "The point is, what I feel is… is shallow compared to him! He knows what love is, he was brought up with it. But I don't. You've… you've helped me in that. But you deserve better than me, than what I can offer you."

Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide, "Do you love me, Draco?"

He did not answer.

She sank back into her chair, her hand falling over her heart. It was breaking. He was right. Of course he was right.

Draco was crying as he took up his cloak and pulled it on. He walked towards the door but Hermione did not want him to leave and so she opened her mouth and asked the only question that came unbidden to her mind, if only to keep him talking.

"Draco?" he turned back towards her, "Your cloak. It's enchanted… I could see when I took the potion… Why?"

He smiled sadly and took out his wand. "Don't hate me." he said.

His wand swept across his body and the cloak seemed to shift, engulfing his body in thick black smoke.

When the smoke cleared, Hermione gasped. There, before her, stood Draco still, but hiding behind a Death Eater mask, in Death Eater robes.

"Why?" she breathed.

"Because it is the last remnant I have of my father, of the life that I chose for myself before the world fell."

His wand moved again and the robes disappeared, morphing back into the same black cloak that she knew so well.

"You never really changed, did you?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Only as much as you did." Draco replied. He looked at her for a moment, smiling softly before he turned around and strode out of the room, leaving Hermione alone but for Harry's sleeping form.

She slumped forward on the bed and sobbed, for everyone and everything and for herself. It was all so much more real now than it was before. Her thoughts about Draco prior to that night had been bordering on assumptions. Of course, the things he did spoke loudly about his feelings but she realised she'd never really believed any of it until then. She'd just enjoyed being angry. But maybe a tiny part of her had thought that it would all work out, that he'd make some grand gesture and come back and she'd forgive him and they'd be happy again.

But those fantasies were nothing more than a smouldering pile of ash now. He'd made sure of that.

_I'll never love you like Weasley does… What I feel for you is shallow compared to him…_

So that was that. There was no argument anymore. The choice had been made.

Hermione would not run after him, she was too proud for that, she would not beg. She would accept his beliefs, his decisions. Because she knew what love was. Love was selfish. Love meant that you stayed with someone even if you knew you were bad for them, even if you thought they could do better, because being apart from them would just hurt far too much. There was nothing noble about it and any fantasy story or movie that said otherwise was just glossing over a cold, hard truth. No one ever walked away from the person they loved for noble reasons. This was humanity. And humanity wasn't like that.

If Draco had really loved her, he would have stayed. And so, therefore, he did not.

Her hand remained on Harry's, which still twitched under her palm, as she cried. The acceptance of those facts would not stop her pain, would not ease the heartbreak. Draco had said that she deserved better, but Hermione did not know what she deserved. All she knew was that she would _not _run to Ron after this. She didn't want to be with him right then. She didn't want to be with anyone. The thought alone of anyone other than Draco touching her was repulsive and wrong. Sure, she loved Ron, and in the last few days she had come to think that maybe, _maybe_, she might still be _in _love with him, but he wasn't going to be her bandaid. Too many people had played that role in her life already.

"Hermione?"

Her head snapped up towards the door, her heart leaping, thinking Draco had returned to take it all back. To make her whole again. But there was no one there.

Slowly her head turned toward the person who's hand she held.

Harry's eyes were open.

* * *

A/N Ah! So many reviews! I woke up yesterday morning with about 30 emails and I'm not going to lie, I may have cried a bit. Thank you all so much! Keep them coming! We're so close to the end...

Now. Down to business. A few of you (and when I say 'few' I mean pretty much fucking everyone lol) have been expressing some concern over whether this is going to end up being a Ron/Hermione story! I have a few things to say to this...

1. I said it's a Dramione, didn't I? Trust, my lovelies, trust.

2. My understanding of a "main pairing" (and here, I am merely pointing out what I know and promise you that I am making absolutely NO allusions to the ending of Victim of the Fall) is that it is dictated by whichever couple gets the most, uh, 'screen time'. So in my mind, this story IS a Dramione, considering that the majority of it has been about their relationship. Even if, in the end, she ends up with Ron or no one or (as a rather colourful reviewer stated) the fucking giant squid. It's still Dramione.

3. We've still got another THREE chapters to go! And I'm hardly going to come out and tell you the ending now, am I? So feel free to stop reading if the suspense is too much. But if not, I hope you enjoy the rest of it!

Much love,

Desdemona

P.s hehe, yes there was a Galadriel moment... SHH!


	39. Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

HELL YEAH

_"Life is a B movie, it's stupid and it's strange, a directionless story and the dialogue is lame. But in the he said she said sometimes there's some poetry."_

Hermione felt her face grow into a smile that came from the very middle of herself, from the very core of her soul. Without any conscious thought, she flung herself into Harry's arms and sobbed.

"Hermione!" he said hoarsely, laughter in his voice, "It's alright!"

"Is it really you?!" she cried, looking into his eyes.

He smiled brokenly, "Yes, it's me."

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, feeling like she's never experienced a greater happiness than this. It was such a violent juxtaposition to the heartbreak she'd been feeling only moments earlier that her head was spinning and her hands shaking, as if she were about to fall into a panic attack. After a moment, she pulled away and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"I have to go get one of the healers." she said, still smiling but her hands continued to shake.

His arm shot out to grasp her wrist, stopping her from leaving. "Wait, Hermione, I want to talk to you."

She brushed him off, "Talk to me later, Harry. Everyone's been dying to see you!"

Harry shook his head seriously, his eyes pleading with her, "No, I need to talk now. Before I can face whatever's… Out there…" he glanced at the door fearfully.

"Alright." she said slowly and sank down again into the chair beside his bed, trying to get a grip of herself.

He hoisted himself up on the bed as best he could, grimacing and groaning as his joints clicked and his muscles strained under the movement. Once he was sitting up enough to be able to look at her he said, with real pain and guilt in his voice, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

"It's ok, Harry, I know it wasn't you…" she said kindly, quick to reassure him. She'd had a taste of how persuasive Voldemort was after all, knew how his influence could warp and change someone's mind. Had everything happened the way it had, but for Hermione taking Voldemort into herself, she probably would have continued to blame Harry, would have been angry with him. But she knew better now. She'd experienced it herself, even if it was only for six frightening minutes. What must have it been like for him after almost a _year_?

Harry grimaced, "No but it was _my _fault. I should never have used the wand."

She nodded sagely. Yes. That _was _something to apologise for. Hermione could not help when the question burst from her lips moments later, "But why did you? How did you even get it?"

She knew she should have left it, waited until after the healers had seen him, but she couldn't help it. She'd been burning to know how Harry's side of events had unfolded for months.

Harry scrunched up his eyes as if trying to remember something particularly painful. "It… it was just after the final battle. They found it in the pocket of Riddle's robes and one of the Aurors gave it to me, saying it could be like a trophy. I don't know… I didn't really want it but she was so insistent that I eventually agreed to take it just to get her to leave me alone. It just sat at the bottom of my trunk for weeks… then I guess I just felt like giving it a try. I wanted to know if it worked for me. And I just started using it more and more until it was the only wand I used." he shook his head, staring down at his hands, "Ginny didn't like it… She was always questioning it… And I don't know why but that made me angry. I couldn't stand her questioning me all the time. I really wanted to be left alone but she just wouldn't. That's why I asked her to leave." he said thickly.

Hermione frowned, "But it wasn't always like that. You weren't like that at first."

"No… I felt really free after the final battle. Like I could do anything. I was so _ready _to just get on with life, you know? But that stopped once I'd started to use the wand. I started to… Think things. Bad things. I thought I could rule the world. Then… Well, eventually I realised it was a Horcrux, didn't I? But for some reason, I didn't care. By then, I'd already lost everyone. Ron was gone, Ginny was gone and the Weasley's wouldn't talk to me… And I'd been to see you and you'd kicked me out. Not that I think that was such a bad idea, or anything," he said quickly when she looked like she was about to speak, "you did what you had to, but after that I felt so alone. I thought that the wand was my only friend and I didn't care that it was really a piece of Voldemort. So I let it… enter my mind."

"But why did you come to me at all, Harry? Why didn't Voldemort make you kill me?" she asked quietly. She'd wanted to know that for such a long time, wanted to know what value he'd seen in her then.

Harry gave a mirthless, cynical chuckle, "Honestly, Hermione, the answer to that question is far stranger than you could imagine… The wand was a Horcrux Voldemort made when he was really young. About fifteen or sixteen I think, that's why he never really counted it, because he didn't think it'd worked. And it kinda didn't. It wasn't as strong as the other Horcruxes."

Hermione nodded when he said this, she had noticed the weaker state of the fragment of soul she'd found inside Harry. It was like it was needy, co-dependent, too trusting given what she knew of Voldemort.

Harry continued, "I've been totally aware of everything I've done since I started using the wand. That's what made me realise it was different, because I remember Ginny saying she'd couldn't remember huge chunks of her life in her first year when Voldemort possessed her…" his voice thickened slightly at what was said next, "I remembered everything, it just warped my mind to the point that I thought it was all ok… But the reason I kept coming back to you was… Well… I know how fucked up this sounds but you're really the closest thing I ever had to a mum." Hermione almost choked on her own saliva at this. Her? A mother? Harry continued, "No, seriously! Think about it. The whole time we've known each other, you've comforted me, you've looked after me, you've always been there for me and you've saved my life more times than I can count. And Voldemort yearned for his mum when he was young, when he made that Horcrux. I could feel it. I think we always assumed that he was this cold hearted sociopath, but he still felt stuff. I don't know if it was love or anything but he wanted his mum around and wished she was there… That's why I always went to Godric's Hollow first. Because I thought it might help with that yearning, being near their graves… But it didn't. In the end, I came to you because I was feeling all the same stuff about _my_ mum. And for both of us, me and Riddle, you were the next best thing." he finished, with a drawn smile.

Hermione felt bits of her mind falling away like a wet cake as Harry spoke. She was sort of flattered that he thought of her like that but at the same time, her head was spinning with the fact that there was not some greater, darker purpose to all of it. It was just about Harry and Voldemort's issues with abandonment. That was all.

"Wow. That's… heavy. " she breathed, taking a moment to fully absorb the new information, before ploughing on with her next question, "So what about the blood magic? Kreacher said you wanted my blood."

Harry smiled knowingly, "Yeah I thought you might have caught a hold of him after you found me in the Forest of Dean. I'm glad he helped. Remind me to reward him." The smile slowly faded and he shook his head, seemingly overcome by the frightening reality of his own actions, "Those books you had… I was drawn to that kind of magic and so was Voldemort, though he'd dabbled in it already. It's more powerful than anything I've ever seen. But I guess you already known that." he said with a wan smile. "I originally wanted _your_ blood because if I could make protective enchantments with yours, there's no way you'd have ever been able to get through them. In the end I settled for Ginny though. I bet she fucking hates me now…" he said heavily.

Hermione put her hand on his arm, her tone serious, "Harry, Ginny's been possessed too. I think you underestimate her. She knows what it's like. She knows what it's like to hurt people under the influence of Voldemort. And the damage she did in her first year, compared to the damage you've done now is relatively on par I think. I mean, I know you tried to kill someone but, I stopped that didn't I? And she almost succeeded. She doesn't hate you, I promise."

Harry nodded, sighing sadly before he said, "What magic _were_ you using, Hermione? How did you stop it?"

Hermione shook her head and smiled, "It's too much to explain in a few sentences. I'll tell you about it later… In fact… I have a book you can read."

He shook his head in awe. "Cause that day in the forest was fucking scary. I could literally feel you coming. But I didn't know what it was and a kind of masochistic part of me wanted to see… Then you were just _there_, you were like a goddess. When you flicked the killing curse back at me, that was the first time I'd had real clarity in months, the first time Voldemort and me were truly separated. I realised then what I'd been doing. But it was gone really quickly. It felt like he had a stronger hold on me than ever after that."

"I thought as much…" said Hermione matter-of-factly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own recollections. Knowing all that Harry had told her now was like a weight lifted off her chest. She felt lighter.

Hermione glanced at her watch, noting that it almost three am. The moon outside the window of Harry's room was low on the horizon.

After a while, Harry spoke again, "So tell me your side, Hermione. I know you weren't entirely honest with me about your life last time we spoke… Tell me everything."

"Alright…"

Hermione did not really need to force herself to say anything as she once had to; there was nothing she was interested in hiding anymore, not from Harry anyway. So she told it all; from her arrival at Hogwarts to the _Crucio _she'd cast on herself, she told him about George and what they'd done, about Teodora, the _tovarasi _and the bond, about how Isobel had become invaluable to her and what had happened the night on the lake, she told him about Draco and what had grown between them, of the love she'd had for him. She then gave him a full and detailed explanation of all that had happened after she'd discovered the memory, even going into a moderate amount of detail around how she and Draco had acquired it. Harry listened to all of this patiently, sometimes laughing and sometimes frowning. When she'd finished he sighed and looked at her for a long time.

"You never do anything by halves do you?" he said, laughing quietly.

Hermione grinned and shook her head, borrowing one of Isobel's favourite lines, "Have you met me, Harry?"

He snorted jovially before his face turned serious again, "How's Ron taking it? You and Malfoy I mean?"

Hermione was secretly glad that he didn't seem to want to dissect much more of his own madness and the damage it had caused, though she wasn't much more comfortable discussing her relationships. She shrugged, "I don't know. We were a bit caught up in everything else that was going on. I don't think he had time to react properly… Do _you _mind?"

Harry frowned, "I don't know… I can't really understand the appeal but then, you never really went for the conventional types. I reckon Malfoy's company would have been a bit of a relief after the way it was at the Burrow… But was he different though? Than when we were at school? Did he treat you ok?"

"Yeah he did…"

"So why did it end?" asked Harry.

"We're too different I guess… I mean I know Ron and I were different but our core values were the same. Underneath it all we were always similar. With Draco, the surface stuff was our common ground but the deeper stuff was always a little bit askew. I didn't mind that at first, but it's sort of an… insurmountable problem now." she said morosely.

He nodded understandingly, "And does Ron know about George?"

"No." she replied somewhat guiltily.

"Are you going to tell him?"

She grimaced, "I don't know… It feels so long ago. And nothing's weird between me and George now. It sort of feels like telling him would just bring up a whole heap of old shit that isn't really relevant anymore. And George doesn't want him to know… Do _you _think I should tell him?"

Harry shrugged and sighed, "Dunno, Hermione. That's up to you."

She nodded. "I know…"

Again, they sat in silence for a few minutes. Hermione studied Harry then, studied his hair and his hands, the curve of his neck and the shape of his eyes. She committed these things to memory, pushing out all of her most recent images of him, the image of Voldemort looking at her through his eyes. She wanted to think of Harry always as he was right then, whole and untainted, freshly free of the darkest of demons. _This _was the Harry she'd missed, the one that was her best friend in the whole world. Just looking at him made her whole body tense with excited joy. She felt it in the tips of her fingers, in her teeth and the soles of her feet.

"I love you Harry." she said suddenly.

He looked at her and it was almost like they could see into each other's minds. His eyes were as wet as hers.

"I love you too, Hermione."

And that was that. He knew that he had all her forgiveness then, all of her love. They didn't need to talk about it anymore. She stood up.

"I don't think I can reasonably justify putting off calling a healer any longer." she said with a chuckle. Harry nodded, smiling.

Just before Hermione opened the door though, she turned to him. "Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you alright?"

He frowned for a moment. "I dunno why but… I actually am. I sort of think I should be ashamed of everything I did, that Voldemort did with my hands… But I just can't seem to manifest it."

Hermione smiled and nodded, striding out of the room. She knew exactly why he couldn't manifest the shame he thought he was supposed to feel. The _Rusine _had worked just as she had hoped it would, just as it had for her. It was the potion developed to cure shame, after all. That's why she'd chosen it.

* * *

Two days later, Hermione stood in her lounge room looking around at the collection of people she'd gathered. The _tovarasi_ were all looking slightly worse for wear, each for their own reasons. Only Ginny stood separately from the group, glowing with an inner radiance that Hermione could understand entirely. Ginny and Harry had talked for a long time the night he'd woken. _All _night as Hermione could understand it. She hadn't been wrong when she'd told Harry that Ginny understood. The younger girl understood better than anyone and as was so true to her character, she'd forgiven Harry's wrong easily and almost without thought.

A part of Hermione felt like maybe this wasn't entirely healthy but then… Who was she to judge another's relationship? There was something beautiful about Ginny's unconditional love for Harry. He deserved that after all he'd been through. He deserved someone in his life that would never leave him, that accepted him, that loved him from the very depths of their soul. What made it glorious to watch was that he loved her back in exactly the same way.

Hermione had been there when Ginny had gotten to St Mungos only minutes after she'd informed the healers that Harry had woken. She'd seen their love standing there in the room, as tangible as the two people who shared it.

Ginny had burst through the door as Hermione leant beside the window, talking casually with Harry about some of the lighter times she'd shared with the _tovarasi_. The moment the younger girl entered, Hermione tried her best to blend into the wallpaper as Harry's head snapped up and his face wore a look of fear so potent that it sent shivers down her spine. But neither of them noticed her, not once they'd locked eyes.

No words had passed between them, no confirmation, only a series of emotions flitting across each of their faces. Then, Ginny had moved like a ghost across the room, her hands visibly shaking. After only the briefest of pauses as she came to stand by Harry's bed, the younger girl leapt on top of him, her feet leaving the ground as she hugged him with her entire body. For a moment, their embrace had been fierce, soundless and powerful. Then suddenly Harry and Ginny were both laughing and crying, kissing every part of each other's faces. Words were exchanged then, but Hermione couldn't make them out behind all the sobbing and laughter.

It was then that she slipped quietly from the room and the talking began.

Ginny had not left Harry's side until that moment as the healers had asked that he remain at the hospital for observation for a few days, much to his chagrin. Ron and the rest of the Weasleys had been to see him, but that was the extent of his visitors.

Until, Hermione hoped, that day.

"So I guess you're wondering why I asked you all to come here…" she began and the room fell silent as the group's eyes turned to her. "I'd like for you all to meet Harry. Properly. I want you to see him as he is now, not how he was before."

"I've met Potter plenty of times." grunted Blaise. Hermione noted the drawn and pallid look to his dark skin and wondered just how much he knew of what had taken place between Harry and Ginny. Her eyes flicked to the younger girl who wore a pained expression, making Hermione guess that they had indeed had that hard conversation. And Blaise didn't seem to be taking it well.

A flash of anger sliced through her then at Ginny's actions. But then, Hermione reminded herself that she did not want anger to be a part of her life anymore. What Ginny, Blaise and Harry did with their little triangle was of no concern to Hermione. She would continue to love them all the same.

"I know Blaise… But you're one of my best friends. And so is Harry. I want you all to know him like that. As my best friend."

Blaise looked at her and Hermione pleaded with him silently. After a moment, he nodded stiffly. "Fine."

"Where's Draco?" asked Susan then.

"I wrote to him but he didn't respond." Hermione answered.

"Are you alright?" asked Padma, empathetically.

Hermione smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine. Really. It hurts, but that's ok. If it didn't hurt, it wouldn't have meant anything. I like that it meant something."

She swung her cloak over her shoulders as the rest of the group did the same and together, they left the flat.

Minutes later, the stood in the lobby of St Mungos. Hermione strode forward, nodding and smiling at the Welcome Witch on duty, and made her way up to Harry's room, the _tovarasi_ in tow. She knocked lightly and poked her head in.

"Harry? I've got some visitors for you." she said, grinning as she saw Ron, sitting on the end of Harry's bed with what looked like the Daily Prophet's sports section open on the blanket in front of them.

Harry ran a hand through his hair in what Hermione recognised as an attempt to flatten it. "Sure. Bring them in!" he said, grinning.

Hermione gestured for the _tovarasi_ to follow her as she entered the room properly. Harry's eyes widened at the size of the group.

"Harry, this is the _tovarasi_." said Hermione lightly.

Harry waved wanly at the group as Ron got off the bed to shake hands with Eli and Blaise.

"So you already know Ginny and Luna, _obviously_, uhm…" Hermione craned her neck to see over the small crowd, pointing at them as she introduced them. "This is Susan Bones, Juliet DeMarco, Blaise Zabini, Isobel Holub, Padma Patil and Eli Jackson."

Harry laughed, "So you two are together now, right?" he said, gesturing between Padma and Eli and looking at Hermione for confirmation. She nodded. "Well I'm glad she landed herself a decent bloke after that horrific date _I_ took her on the night of the Yule ball in our fifth year…"

Padma's face turned red and dropped into her hands and Eli roared with laughter.

After that, conversation flowed easily. The _tovarasi _made themselves comfortable around the room, which quickly became filled with chatter and mirth. There wasn't even a tense moment when Harry had told Isobel that she was trying to 'supplant him as Hermione's best friend and he _would_ fight her for it'. Isobel had simply giggled and told him he was welcome to try.

Hermione could sense his nervousness behind the jokes though. He had already gleaned from her and Ginny just how important these people were to them and he wanted to impress them, wanted them to like him. After everything they'd been through because of him, she could understand his edginess.

After they'd been there for a while, Hermione sensed the need for libations. "Does anyone want a coffee or a tea?" she asked, standing. Orders were immediately called out to her from all sides. After reassuring everyone that she knew them well enough by then to remember how they took their tea, she left the room.

The corridor outside was busy but Hermione was used to it. She stuck close to the wall as she made her way down to where the kitchenette was located.

"Hermione!" a voice called out from behind her. She spun around to see Blaise jogging towards her, weaving between the healers and patients that littered the hallway. His cloak was in his hand.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm going to go." he said, sounding like he was having difficulty breathing. "I can't do this."

Hermione took a moment to think about this before she decided that his need appeared to be far greater than those back in the room and said, "Hold on. I'll come with you." and with that, she strode back up the corridor before Blaise could protest and re-entered Harry's room.

"I'm just going to pop off for a moment, alright? Everything ok here?" she said hurriedly as she grabbed her cloak and beaded bag, without waiting for an answer.

"Where's my damn tea?!" Ron demanded jovially and Hermione waved her hand dismissively and grinned as she swept back out of the door where Blaise was waiting for her.

"Alright?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yep." he answered through clenched teeth and they left St Mungos together.

Rather than apparating to somewhere else, Hermione suggested they just walk. It was a beautiful day in London and she didn't want to waste it.

They moved slowly through the streets in silence, taking in their surroundings and breathing the fresh air. Hermione felt like she should say something to Blaise, the wizard was clearly in deep distress, but she could not think of anything. He seemed almost happier to just have her company and for a while, she gave him just that. If she was honest, it was nice not to talk for once, nice to just be able to enjoy the environment.

She did not know how long they walked but eventually, they came upon the banks of the Thames and decided to stroll along it. The water lapping against the river's edge combined with the dull thrumming sound of the constant traffic that was always prevalent in London.

It was then, that Hermione finally decided what she'd like to say, "I know it's not much, but I'm sorry about all this."

"It's not your fault." he responded shortly.

"I know but… Maybe I should have said something… I don't know." she said, shaking her head and squinting in the sunlight.

"Like what?"

"Maybe I should have told you more about Harry, about how they felt for each other." she answered sadly.

Blaise laughed mirthlessly, "I knew, Hermione, I knew. I just ignored it. Every time he was mentioned it didn't take a genius to see how affected she was. And even if I didn't see it before, don't you think I would have begun to suspect something when she sat by his bed for three weeks?"

"I guess I didn't think about it like that." she acknowledged. He did not respond and after a moment she asked lowly, "Was she still sleeping with you through all that time?"

Blaise smiled desolately, "No. She's not as bad as that."

Hermione turned to look at him then and realised with a shock that there were tears in his eyes. "Are you in love with her?"

He sniffed and shook his head, "I don't know. Sometimes it feels like I am but at others I just don't care. Whether I love Ginny or not depends on what mood I'm in… But on the whole I think I'd have to say yes. It's like you said, it hurts so it must mean something. And it hurts like all hell… What about you? Are you in love with Draco?"

"Yes… And no… I love what he was before all of this started, but the person he's become now is someone I just don't know anymore. I don't understand why he changed, but he did." she reflected, staring down at her feet as they carried her along the grass.

"He's in war mode, Hermione." he said with a shrug and she looked at Blaise in confusion, "To you, war mode is this swords blazing, we ride at dawn, ready to die fierceness. For him it's total and utter chaos and confusion. You're focussed during battle, he's not. He's running around like a headless chicken trying to find a hole to crawl into so he can hide from it all. He doesn't know what he's doing." he explained directly.

"I can understand that." Hermione conceded, "And what's your war mode, Blaise?"

Blaise laughed, "Well, mine's changed. At first it was as simple as doing whatever the bad guys told me to do, then it was total inactivity, and now it's just… Do whatever the good guys tell me to do."

Hermione chuckled along with him at that before she exhaled wearily, "Well, it's over now I guess. I plan on forgetting very quickly what my war mode looks like."

He grinned, "I can understand that, though it's not really an option for me I'm afraid."

"Why's that?"

"I'm planning on joining the Aurors after the summer." he responded with a hint of pride.

"Oh wow!" Hermione exclaimed, "That's brilliant Blaise! You'll be fantastic, I know it."

There was something thankful in the smile he flashed her then. "And what about you? What's after Hogwarts?"

She laughed, "Oh, I don't know… Suicide?" she jested sarcastically.

Blaise's face fell and he looked away from her and across the Thames. Hermione felt instantly guilty when she saw tears again building in his eyes.

"Oh god, I'm sorry Blaise. That was insensitive…" a red blush of embarrassment was rising in her cheeks and she laid a hand on his arm as they walked. "You're really not alright, are you?" she stated in a way that made it sound like it wasn't a question.

"Neither are you." answered Blaise, dashing the tears from his eyes with a quick swipe of his hand. Hermione made to protest but he cut her off. "Don't. I know you Hermione. You're not alright. You might pretend that you are for a while, but what happens when it all goes back to normal? When Potter's better and everyone's getting back to their lives? What happens when the silence hits?"

She could offer no answer to this at all. She didn't know if he was right or not, but she'd learnt not to dismiss things like that anymore. What he said might have been true. After all, experience did dictate that it was possible. That's what had happened after the final battle anyway.

"There was something my mum used to say," she said after a while, "That I think would work here… _The definition of insanity is repeating the same behaviour and expecting a different result_."

"That's probably the truest thing I've ever heard." said Blaise reverentially.

"So what do we do different this time, Blaise? How do we change it?" asked Hermione, her voice distressed.

"Don't shut everyone out. We both do that…"

Hermione nodded, knowing that he was unequivocally right. "And realise that it'll feel bad again, that it won't stay good for long… And we've got to do something about that." she hastened.

"I've an idea actually…" he said suddenly.

"What?"

He stopped and looked at her, his hands on her shoulders as he turned her to face him, "We could see mind healers. We could book appointments at the same time and… and go together."

Hermione's tongue suddenly felt like sand paper in her mouth as her throat ran dry. "I don't know…"

Blaise threw his hands in the air, his voice rising to a frustrated pitch, "Looks at our lives Hermione! The war fucked _everything_! I know what you had with Draco because I had the same thing with Ginny! I thought that nothing was ever going to be ok again! Some days I felt like I'd rather chew glass than get out of bed!"

"I never knew you had it that bad…" said Hermione quietly.

"I never showed it! And you did a pretty good job at hiding your feelings too! But then _they_ came along. And everything seemed like it would be better then didn't it? 'Cause you didn't have to spend any more time thinking about _you_, there was always _them_… But now… You love Draco, but he doesn't love you back and…"

"And you love Ginny, but she wants to be with another man." Hermione finished for him, her voice cracking slightly.

"Yes." he breathed.

They began to walk again. Hermione's head was chattering away madly, as it always did. Arguments and counter arguments zipping from one synapse to the other at a speed she could not keep up with no matter how hard she tried.

"Wouldn't it be nice to be able to learn how to turn off all that talking in your head?" asked Blaise reflectively, totally unaware of the fact that he had just appeared to read her mind.

And that occurrence seemed to snap something into place inside her.

"Alright."

"What?"

"Alright. Let's do it. Let's… get therapised." she chuckled, a tad manically.

Blaise grinned at her, looking as if a weight had been lifted off his chest.

They stood still for a moment before Hermione held out her hand to him and he took it, a silent acknowledgment of their decision and their mutual pain. Their understanding and their friendship.

And so they walked on, hand in hand through London until the sun set and the red glow of the horizon made the shadows long.

* * *

A/N Not the end yet! Don't freak out haha. But we're almost done. Just wanted to let everyone know that there is still a trailer for Victim of the Fall coming! I'll either post it with the final chapter OR with the final Author's Note which will be posted separately.

Only two more to go lovelies...

xx

Desdemona


	40. Chapter 40

CHAPTER 40

32 FLAVOURS

_"I am a poster girl with no poster, I am 32 flavours and then some."_

Two weeks later, Hermione found herself sitting on her couch one afternoon, reading. Crookshanks lay purring at her feet and her balcony doors were flung open, allowing the warm breeze to drift lazily through her flat.

She was relaxed, happy. The truth of Blaise's statements the day they'd left St Mungos together, was more and more obvious as the time passed. Harry had left the hospital with a full bill of health and though he, Ron and the rest of the _tovarasi _visited her regularly, the silence had indeed hit just as Blaise had predicted. And once she had nothing else to occupy her mind, Hermione had felt that old, familiar depression sinking into her life again.

But this time she'd done something different. On the 13th of April, Hermione went with Blaise to her first appointment with her mind healer, a jovial older woman called Maya whom Hermione had loved almost instantly. The woman was easy to talk to, she spoke Hermione's language.

Afterwards, her and Blaise had gone for coffee in a little muggle cafe and she'd been happy to hear that he felt just as cheerful after his session and liked his new mind healer just as much.

The exercise had helped them. She'd felt lighter afterwards and surprisingly, that lightness stayed with her over the following days and by the time the depression started to come back again, she'd had another appointment.

She'd realised in that time, that this was life. And she was actually doing it properly for once. Her mind healer was teaching her to accept herself in every moment, to realise that she was perfect and exactly where she needed to be. Even when she was doing something ugly, like panicking or being stubborn or unforgiving.

Hermione Granger was made up of her flaws as well as her good qualities, just as everyone else was. She could always work to better herself but she'd given up on constantly striving for a phantom idea of perfection. Maya told Hermione that she'd already met her highest self, in her good moments, and to strive for anything more was a vacant dream. And Hermione lived by that now.

In the intervening weeks, Hermione had heard nothing from Draco but had been pleased to learn that he was talking again to Blaise and Eli regularly and even, apparently, Luna. Hermione was just happy that he wasn't shutting himself off to them, that he was still acknowledging himself as a member of the _tovarasi_, even if it was from a distance.

It was nice though, she found, spending a couple of weeks doing nothing much other than eating, sleeping or reading. Sometimes she didn't even do any of that, instead she'd just lie in the sun and watch the dust moats, imagining that they were moving through the air along with the music pouring out of her record player.

On this particular afternoon, Hermione had just finished a late lunch of cold pizza and éclairs and had sunk back into her couch to read. Following the advice of Maya, Hermione had just started the first fiction novel she'd read in years. Almost ever since she'd arrive at Hogwarts when she was eleven, she'd only read nonfiction. It was time for a change.

Perfume by Patrick Suskind sat in her lap. She opened the front cover…

_In eighteenth-century France there lived a man who was one of the most gifted and abominable personages in an era that knew no lack of gifted and abominable personages. His story will be told here. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, and if his name – in contrast to the names of other gifted abominations, de Sade's, for instance, or Saint Just's, Fouche's, Bonaparte's etc. – has been forgotten today, it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those most famous backguards when it came to arrogance, misanthropy, immorality, or, more succinctly, wickedness, but because his gifts and his sole ambition were restricted to a domain that leaves no traces in history: to the fleeting realm of scent…_

Perhaps Hermione had chosen the wrong book for her first foray into fiction. She set it down in her lap and tipped her head backwards to rest of the back of the couch. What _was _a 'gifted abomination'? Was that Voldemort? Or her? Suskind has described it as someone who was arrogant, who loathed humanity, who was immoral and wicked. Hermione was most certainly arrogant and in her darkest hours, yes she loathed humanity. And though she couldn't really ever classify herself as immoral, the things she'd let Draco do to her naked body had made her feel wicked.

These thoughts confused her a little. She wasn't saddened by them really, just kind of reflective. They made her sigh.

Hermione chucked the book onto the table where it flopped onto the wood. She'd only gotten one paragraph in and already she was questioning her own humanity. It was all too heavy for a lazy Thursday afternoon. She stood, stretched, and made her way into the kitchen to make tea. The kettle sat on the stove, warming over the heat as she stood and stared out of her balcony window, her mind wandering off pleasantly.

It snapped back however at a knock on her door.

"Come in! It's unlocked!" she called from the kitchen and grinned when Ron appeared in the archway. "Hey!" she exclaimed brightly. "Want some tea?"

"No, thanks." his tone was slightly clipped and his hands did not seem to be able to remain still.

"What's wrong?" she frowned, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes… No… Yes." he stammered.

Hermione giggled, "Well come on, out with it."

Ron moved forward and took the kettle off the heat. "No. I, uh, I'd like you to come with me. I have to show you something."

"What?"

"Just… Please come. Now."

Without waiting for an answer, he disappeared into the lounge room and returned moments later with her wand and beaded bag. "Here. Let's go."

"Ron! I'm in my pyjamas!" she said, laughing indignantly and gesturing down at her slightly dishevelled quidditch jersey.

Ron looked her up and down indifferently. "Doesn't matter." he moved forwards and grasped her hand, dragging her from the flat.

"Ron! Where are we going?!" she demanded as they tripped down the spiral staircase.

"You'll see."

He refused to answer any more of her questions as they moved out into Diagon Alley. Hermione stared intently down at the cobblestones as they moved, careful not to tread on anything that might harm her bare feet.

Once they reach the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron, he held tight her hand and turned them into darkness. Hermione barely had time to comprehend what was happening before her feet landed on soft grass. She opened her eyes and blinked dazedly in the sunlight. A familiar structure stood a little way down the hill she found herself on. The sight of her made her stomach churn a little.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked quietly.

Hermione had not been back to the Burrow since the night her and Ginny had come to get Ron over two months ago. And she had not been close to it since she'd left to go to Hogwarts. It was a blow to find herself suddenly staring down at it, unprepared as she was. She'd identified the house and the land that surrounded it as a trigger with her mind healer, meaning that it was something that scared her because of the bad memories that clung to it like miasma. To come back so suddenly, when she hadn't even been given a chance to talk or think about it had thrown her.

"I have something to show you." Ron repeated and set off down the hill towards the house.

Hermione followed reluctantly, stepping lightly through the grass. She was grateful for her bare feet then, it felt like the contact she had with the earth was helping her to keep grounded. She wasn't going to deny that the environment was beautiful, it always had been what with the green rolling hills, the breeze that blew this way and that as if it's intent was to caress every inch of her exposed skin and the brilliant blue of the sky…

What would Maya say if she were here? Accept it. Make the best of the situation. Accept that the memories were going to be there and the bad feelings were going to come and that's was ok. The universe never threw anything at her that she couldn't handle.

And so, Hermione took a deep, refreshing breath of the clean country air and slowed from the brisk pace she'd been adopting to keep up with Ron. He turned around when she dropped behind him.

"What are you doing?" he asked in confusion, sounding vaguely annoyed.

"Strolling." Hermione responded, smiling.

Ron seemed on the brink of rolling his eyes before he sighed and mirrored her pace. They walked in silence as she took in each and every breath taking detail of the landscape around her.

Eventually, they reached the fence that surrounded the house and Ron led her to towards the front gate.

"Wait." said Hermione, "I can hear talking."

"The _tovarasi_ are here." Ron responded shortly. "And a few other people…"

"Why?" she asked with a hint of exasperation.

"You'll see." he said again and Hermione thought she could hear a trail of excitement underlining his tone.

Without further ado, he pushed the gate open and held it for Hermione as she walked through. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"The backyard."

His hand fluttered on the small of her back, directing her around the side of the house. Once they'd rounded the corner and stepped into the Burrow's overgrown but charming garden, Hermione self consciously smoothed down the front of her quidditch jersey when the crowd that was gathered there fell silent.

Mrs Weasley rushed forwards. "Hermione. Sweetheart, it's so good to see you."

Before Hermione could respond, the older woman had enveloped her in a tight hug. Hermione patted her shoulder feebly, feeling a little emotional.

Mrs Weasley stepped away and Hermione took a perfunctory glance around the garden, establishing that the entire _tovarasi_, even Draco, to her alarm, were indeed there, as well as Harry, Mrs and Mr Weasley, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and George. There were also some faces she didn't expect like Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas who was hovering over near Luna; and some other faces she didn't know at all like a short, muscular looking girl with hair that looked more like a peacock's tail and several piercings littering her face. There was also a tall dark witch with black dreadlocks standing close to Isobel as well, though for some reason Hermione thought she recognised her from somewhere.

"What? Is this a party?" she asked with a nervous laugh, her voice shaking.

"Yep. It's a party." Ron answered, close to her ear.

"What are we celebrating?" the quaver in her voice rose to new levels as she locked eyes with Draco and turned away. Her mind began trying to think of a reasonable excuse to turn tail and run from all of them. Perhaps she could pretend to faint? Or she could just vomit? That didn't feel like it would be all that hard to do by that point…

"Your birthday."

"But it's April 29th. My birthday's not til September."

"Yeah and you were alone last year. In fact, I bet you completely forgot about it didn't you?" Hermione nodded and Ron grinned, "So we're celebrating it now."

He gave her a light, telling push forwards so that she walked into the crowd. Each person approached her and gave her a hug or, in George's case, a ruffle of her hair and wished her happy birthday. She moved through them in a daze that consisted partly of confusion, partly of happiness and partly of overwhelming emotion. She was trying very hard not to cry.

Just after she'd greeted and hugged both Dean and Luna, Draco appeared in front of her and, much to her embarrassment, one tear did slide down her cheek.

He put a hand on her shoulder and leant forward, kissing the cheek that held her one tear, "Happy Birthday, Hermione. Don't worry, you look beautiful."

Hermione nodded and thanked him, noting the wet patch on his face that her tear had left. As he walked away from her to go and talk to Blaise, she watched him, waiting for him to wipe it off.

Then, it was Isobel's turn. She threw herself into Hermione's arms and gave her a tight but fast hug before she pulled away and directed Hermione's attention to the dark witch she'd noticed earlier.

"Hermione, this is Boadicea."

"Bo's fine." said the witch, smiling in embarrassment. "It's nice to meet you Hermione. Happy birthday."

"Uh… It's nice to meet you too, Bo." Hermione responded with a confused look at Isobel who did not attempt to enlighten her as to who the witch was or what she was doing there.

Before she could ask, Hermione felt someone lay a hand on her arm and she turned to see the colourful haired girl standing beside her, grinning widely.

"Hi! I'm so sorry, I couldn't wait for Ron to introduce me. I've been so excited to meet you and the anticipation was just too much! This is just wild, seriously, after everything he's told me about you and everything that… well he'll tell you. But anyway, I'm ranting aren't I? Sorry. I'm a bit prone to that! I'm Claire by the way!"

Claire did not seem to have taken a breath the entire time she'd spoken and Hermione could do nothing but extend her hand bemusedly and splutter.

"It's… it's nice to meet you Claire!"

Claire giggled. "Oh, you have no idea… I'm sorry but can I hug you? I really feel like I've known you forever and it feels wrong not to give you a hug!"

"Uh, sure!" Hermione responded with a confused chuckle and the girl quickly obliged and wrapped her arms around Hermione, wishing her a happy birthday. As Claire continued to ramble about the house and the company and how fantastic it all was, Hermione became a bit puzzled by the girl's accent. It was odd, almost British but not. She couldn't place it. What she also couldn't place was why a pretty girl, whom she'd never heard of but seemed to know more than enough about her from Ron, was at her party at all.

"Claire! Hermione!" called Harry, approaching the two girls. "Have a drink!"

A fire whisky was pushed into her hand and she grinned as a circle formed, each member holding a glass.

"Ready?!" George called, "One! Two! THREE!"

She threw back the little glass of burning liquid along with the rest of the group, coughing as it seared her throat. Harry threw his arm around her shoulder as he began talking animatedly to Eli.

Ron appeared beside her. "Are you ready?" he asked quietly.

"For what?" she giggled, the firewhisky already sending a flush to her cheeks.

"Your present." he replied.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shrugged, beginning to enjoy herself despite the vague dreamlike feeling she had at being there, surrounded by all of her friends and surrogate family.

Isobel suddenly appeared on her other side, grinning from ear to ear. "Ron's about to tell you it's from all of us, but it's really just from him."

Before Hermione could reply, the younger girl stepped behind her and laid her hands over Hermione's eyes.

"Can you see?" asked Luna's voice.

Hermione laughed. "No!"

The chatter of the crowd died and there was a moment of still silence, then she heard the back door to the Burrow squeak open, followed by a few moments of footsteps and scuffling. Then nothing.

"Ok." said Ron's voice quietly from some distance away.

Isobel removed her hands and Hermione found that the crowd had gone, leaving only Ron, Harry, Isobel and Hermione alone in the backyard… Alone except for the two people standing a few metres in front of her…

Her mind was nothing in that moment. It was only blankness and white noise.

Then, Hermione's knees gave out entirely and she fell forward onto them with a thud. Her eyes were wide and almost unseeing but for these two people. Everything else had disappeared…

"Mum?" she choked, "Dad?"

"Hey kiddo." Barry Granger's voice was thick and his eyes wet but neither he, nor the woman standing beside him approached her. He was smiling so brightly that Hermione felt almost blinded by it.

"They remember me…" Hermione breathed haltingly.

"Of course we remember you, darling." said her mother, her voice cracking as tears pouring silently down her face.

Hermione couldn't look at them any longer, they were too bright, too luminous, they were making her eyes burn. She stared instead down at her hands, splayed on the grass in front of her. It couldn't be real, none of it was real… No one had known where her parents were, no one but her…

"It's alright," said Isobel's voice from above her and Hermione looked up at her friend to find that she was not speaking to her, she was speaking to her parents. "You don't need to be scared."

Suddenly, there were footsteps and then something crashed into Hermione's body and she found her face pressed into her mother's hair as the woman's arms clamped around Hermione's torso. Hers hung limply by her side. She couldn't make them move because if she moved at all, if she even took a breath then the body pressed against her would surely disappear in a puff of smoke. There'd been a part of her that had believed she would never see them again, that she would never hear their voices or smell the moisturiser on her mother's skin. She'd stopped talking about them, stopped thinking about them and she'd even stopped dreaming about them. Because to do any of those things would make it all too real, their absence all too potent. But now they were just _there_ and she couldn't deal with it. She couldn't handle the overwhelming and insane emotions that were agony in her bloodstream. The catastrophic fear, the dazzling hope, the monolithic happiness…

Somewhere in Hermione's turbulent and completely unhinged mind, a piece of her pain cracked and disintegrated and her body found itself again in a tumble of physical feelings she'd almost been numb to a moment before. Her hands were shaking, her throat was dry, her head was spinning and a sweat hand broken out on the back of her neck. But it wasn't panic this time, oh no… It was euphoria.

Her arms flung themselves around Nina Granger's body as the tears and laughter tumbled out of her mouth. The two women knelt on the ground, swaying slightly in their embrace before her father joined them, his arms enveloping them both. He still had his tattoos…

Now, Hermione couldn't look at them enough, her mother's laughter, her father's scent, their hugs that were so familiar. And she felt like she could do anything, could move mountains with her happiness. They weren't scared of her, weren't mad at her for what she'd done, their happiness was just as visible as hers and it bled into her every pore. She drank in her parents for what felt like hours but was really only a few minutes before she turned to look at Ron who, like Harry and Isobel, had tears in his eyes too.

"How?" was all she could muster.

Ron ducked his head and her father answered for him, "Ron came to find us last year."

"That's where you were all that time? When you went away? You were in Australia?" Hermione asked, struck by an overwhelming feeling of disbelief and gratitude.

He nodded.

Slowly, she detached herself from her parents and stood. Without any conscious thought, she threw herself into his body with a thud that echoed through her chest.

"Thank you, Ron. _Thank you_." she sobbed, unable to control her raw outpouring of emotion at all. She could feel his smile against her cheek when he hugged her back.

* * *

The party went on into the night and through til dawn. Hermione spent the first part sitting on a blanket in the corner of the garden, talking to her parents, telling them of all that had taken place in her life since they'd left, though Ron had filled them in on the war; and they told her all about their life in Australia.

Occasionally one or two members of the _tovarasi_ came over and sat with them, embellishing Hermione's stories with their own experiences. And after they left, her father would give his expert opinion on each of them. Eli and Blaise he liked, pronouncing them both 'decent blokes'; Draco he was suspicious of but respected; Juliet and Ginny he treated like family; he'd set up a subscription to the Quibbler with Luna within moments of talking to her; he expressed fatherly concern over Susan; Padma he admired; and Isobel he was completely taken with, declaring that she should never leave Hermione's side.

At around midnight, Ron finally joined them and Hermione managed to coax the whole story out of him. From what she could gather, he'd felt guilty after she left, knowing that he could have done something to prevent it but didn't. He loved her and he'd wanted express that in some way. But rather accurately, he'd deduced that she needed time, that she had a whole heap of healing to do on her own. Ron being Ron, however, he couldn't just sit by and wait for her to return. Like her, he couldn't stay in the Burrow and the grief that hung heavily in the air. So he'd gone to Australia, not having the faintest clue where to start. All he'd had were their names and professions; Wendell and Monika Wilkins, dentists. He'd made contact with the Australian Ministry, made a few friends and gotten a flat in Melbourne with one of them, Claire, which explained the accent. He told her all about Hermione, about what they'd been through and how he felt and Claire had progressively become just as obsessed with finding Wendell and Monika Wilkins as he was. For weeks, they searched, Claire teaching him how to use a phone and computer. They combed phonebooks, the internet and public records, and spoken to what seemed like thousands of muggles with the last name Wilkins. Ron had decided to return then, to England, hoping to find something that might lead him closer to his goal. But he'd found nothing.

Hermione had been right though, in thinking that he'd seen her and Blaise on the balcony that day. But she was surprised to learn that, while he'd been shocked to see her hanging out with a Slytherin, he hadn't thought anymore of it, figuring that it wasn't any of his business anyway. It had been Harry who'd drawn that assumption. No, Ron was just glad to see she was alright.

Days later, he'd gone back to Melbourne to continue his search with Claire and it seemed for months that they would find nothing. Until finally, in November, they'd hit gold. A muggle couple, dentists, who lived in Perth. And so off they'd gone, boarded a plane and flown across the country. Ron and Claire set up a chance meeting so that he could suss them out, though of course he'd known who they were the moment he'd seen them.

Ron and Claire got close to the Wilkins, became their friends and one night, they decided to confess to being magical. Of course, it didn't go down particularly well, especially when Ron tried and failed to cast a simple hovering charm in his nervousness and broken a very old and expensive vase. But the Wilkins came around eventually and accepted the witch and wizard into their family.

It was then that Ron returned to England again, for Christmas. Harry was gone by then and he'd begun to get a bad feeling. Ginny had told him some small details about how Hermione was not doing so well, that she was floundering somewhat and he'd been more eager than ever to have her parents returned to her.

And so, when he returned to Perth, the Wilkins's were hit with yet another bombshell. They had a daughter. When Ron showed them a picture of Hermione, Monika confessed that she'd been having dreams for months about the girl in the picture, though she couldn't remember ever seeing her. For a long while they did not entirely believe Ron's news and said they'd needed time to think. So Ron, suppressing his impatience and frustration, spent some time travelling around Australia with Claire and seeing all that the wonderful country had to offer. He left Hermione's photograph with her parents.

It was then, in March, that they returned to Perth to discover that the Wilkins's had decided to go ahead with the memory charm reversal. And Claire, who was a rather bookish and intelligent witch like Hermione, managed to reverse it successfully. They were able to remember their time as Wendell and Monika but the Grangers were eager to see their daughter again. In fact, eager was an understatement. It took all of Ron's cunning to convince them to remain behind in Australia and prepare for their departure. They sold their house and their car and their practice before finally, in late May, Ron brought them and Claire, because the girl couldn't miss the opportunity off seeing the couple she'd come to love reunited with their daughter, back to England the night before Hermione and Ginny had come to fetch him. He'd been brought up to date by his father on Harry's most recent actions and so, when the two girls had arrived, he wasn't in the least surprised. But then was not the right time to reunite Hermione with her parents.

He'd put it off for a long time, until he'd thought that she was in a better place to accept them, he didn't want to upset her when she was already so fragile. It had taken Barry Granger, two nights previous to the party, threatening Ron very sincerely that if he tried to stop him seeing his daughter any longer, he'd snap his wand.

And so Ron had, quite wisely, set about gathering the _tovarasi_ and planning Hermione's birthday.

Hermione had absolutely no idea how to process Ron's story. To think that while she was agonising, torturing herself and refusing to seek help, that he had been off doing all of that. Of course, she was overjoyed, beyond happy, but there were a few things she felt a little uncomfortable about. For one, she didn't know what to think about Claire. What exactly _was_ the status of their relationship? Hermione didn't think she felt jealous or anything, but she wanted to know and didn't like that it hadn't been established. The second and far greater worry in her mind was this: what if Ron expected them to get back together now? She didn't want that and she didn't want to feel obligated to him after everything he'd done.

If they were ever going to get back together, she wanted it to be because she _wanted _him, because she loved him. Not because she felt indebted to him.

But eventually, the joviality of the party drew Hermione out of the corner and out of her mind. She stayed close to her parents but also allowed herself to drift away. When night had fallen, fairy lights had lit up the trees, food had been laid on and music had played.

Hermione danced until her legs felt weak and ate until she felt like she might be sick and all the time, she got these swooping sensations in her stomach as a voice in her head said,

_Yes. This is real._

And it was. There was a moment, at around two am when she'd found herself standing slightly apart from the joyous and rowdy crowd, sipping on a glass of butterbeer under the light of the trees. And in that moment, she saw them all in their highest selves. Luna and Dean swayed on the grass along with the music, talking quietly and giggling. Harry, Ron, Eli, Claire and Juliet were sprawled on the ground passing around a bottle of Ogden's and laughing raucously. Draco, Arthur, Bill and Charlie were locked in what looked like a jovially heated debate over at one of the tables set up. Her parents were chatting animatedly with Susan and Mrs Weasley. Fleur, Padma and Ginny were giggling and whispering on the back steps. Blaise and George were pouring over a piece of parchment talking conspiratorially. And Isobel was sitting with Bo on a bench, grinning dopily as the older woman spoke.

They were all smiling, all radiating contentment and happiness and Hermione felt, in that moment, more blessed than she'd ever felt in her life. This was her family. This was her life. This was her healing.

* * *

The grass crunched under her bare feet as she walked, her fingers intertwined with Isobel's. The dawn light made the shadows long and the beat of the music and laughter from the Burrow echoed through the hills around them. But there was a quietness in the environment, the sort of quiet that always permeated her veins around five am. It was the still freshness of dawn.

"You and Bo are together aren't you?" Hermione grinned to her companion.

Isobel giggled, "In every possible way. Yes."

"So she's the secret Auror, huh? Why didn't you tell me?"

The younger girl shrugged, "At first… I was a bit scared. I didn't know how you'd react. The wizarding world are alright about homosexuality but I've heard awful things about how the muggles deal with it…"

"I can promise you not all of them think like that. And I certainly don't. I'm happy that you're happy, Isobel." she said urgently, keen to show Isobel her unyielding support. For once, Hermione felt truly ashamed that she was muggleborn.

Isobel smiled. "Thanks Hermione. I sort of knew that anyway… After a while, it was just easier not to say anything, what with everything that was going on."

"I can understand that." Hermione conceded.

Isobel grinned and nudged her friend playfully, "So what about you? How's _your _love life?"

Hermione cackled, "Calling it a 'love life' sounds _far _too simple."

"Alright, I'll narrow it down. What's going on with you and Ron?"

She grimaced, "I don't know. I'm scared that he expects something to happen after everything he's done… But then, this Claire girl is here and I have no idea what to make of _that_."

"Well, for one, I don't think Ron's like that. He loves you, Hermione, and I don't mean in a romantic way, though that might be there. I think he did it just because he wanted to help. That's all. And as for Claire, well… Do you think they're together? Are you jealous?" asked Isobel and Hermione was struck with how much she loved her friend for being able to simplify her problems like that, so they didn't feel so scary.

She thought about her answer for a while before she spoke. "Hmm… The way they are around each other is sort of telling. There's intimacy there, you know? Like they know each other well enough to be comfortable in each other's personal space… And I don't know that I'm jealous really, I'm sort of over the whole jealousy thing anyway. If he loves me, in whatever way, then him loving someone else doesn't really have anything to do with it. It's just an ongoing extension of the love _we _have. And the love _we _have is just an extension of the love _they _have. It's circular. Do you know what I mean? I don't care who he's sleeping with. And I feel the same about Draco, I think. I know that a part of him cares for me. I'm good with that."

"I think that's a beautiful way to look at love Hermione." said Isobel quietly.

"But there's something that Draco said a while ago that's been playing on my mind…" Hermione said slowly as they walked.

"What's that?"

Hermione told her about the conversation she'd had with the wizard by Harry's bed that night all those weeks ago.

"He said I deserved better than him, that he'd never love me the way Ron did and Ron's reasons for leaving were nobler. It almost sounds like he _knew_ where Ron had been all that time." she finished, frowning.

"That's because he _did _know." said Isobel heavily.

Hermione's head snapped up so fast she felt her neck click. "What?!"

"Well, not the _whole _time but…" Isobel sighed in frustration, "Look. I told him I wouldn't tell you any of this but a while ago, Draco and I had a conversation. About your parents. After the night in Privet Drive, he was pretty torn up about everything he'd done and I guess he wanted to make it up to you somehow. So he pulled some strings, doled out a pretty hefty amount of money, and hired an investigator in Australia to find your parents. I think his goal was to just find them so that he could let you know they were safe. Anyway, the investigator told him they'd already been found. By Ron. And that they were already back here. So there you go. He'd been bested and he conceded his loss."

Hermione snorted, "You make it sound like I'm some trophy."

Isobel sighed and ran a hand through her blonde hair. "Honestly, Hermione, I think that's probably a part of how he sees you. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. I think Draco loves the _idea_ of you, of what you bring to his life. But, I mean, look at it this way, the moment you really broke, properly, not just a few days of depression but months and months, he couldn't hack it, could he? It was too real."

Hermione nodded resignedly. "I think ultimately, the only thing I need to know now is what he's told me. He's not ready for us. Or he doesn't want it. Either way, he's not with me now and that's it. I don't want to spend any more time making assumptions about his feelings."

"That's probably smart." Isobel agreed.

They walked on in silence for a time, cresting the top of a hill near the Burrow. The fresh, warm wind caressed their skin and whipped their hair about their faces. And here they stopped, staring out at the slashes of purple and red and gold that were cresting the horizon.

"Are you happy, Hermione?" asked Isobel reflectively after a while.

Hermione pressed her palm closer to her friend's and took a deep breath. On the exhalation she said, "Yes."

"Me too." said Isobel softly.

"Do you think this will last? This feeling?"

The younger girl smiled knowingly, "No. That's not how life works. But does it really matter? We'll always know we had this night and this feeling. That we had this moment and this dawn. And there'll be plenty more like it."

Hermione looked at her friend and moved closer to her so that their shoulders brushed each other. "It's funny isn't it? This happiness thing… We spend all our time chasing it, trying to force it and freaking out when it's not there. And we miss all the great stuff that happens in between. My life is up and down. I can wake up in the morning and feel awful and then, that night I can feel euphoric. Some weeks are shit and some are brilliant and I can't help feeling really grateful for that right now. How many people get to experience life like that? I've always buried my nose in books, trying to learn everything there is to learn when I should have been burying my nose in my own life." she sighed, "You wanna know what I think?"

"Always." Isobel responded.

"I don't know that there is a god or a goddess or whatever, but I think there's a higher power, and that's joy. Happiness is the higher power. And when we suffer, it's just that power trying to let us know there's something we haven't learnt yet. I was sad for a long time because I wasn't learning the lessons set out for me. And now I am. I've learnt that love is good for my soul but so is pain. I've learned that I don't need to look at the past anymore, because there are so many wonderful things _right here_. Like this sunrise, like the sound of all our friends, of our family laughing, like _you_, Isobel. I don't need money and I don't need power, I don't even really need happiness. I just need to know that _this_, right here, right now, I need to know that this feeling exists."

Isobel tugged on Hermione's hand and Hermione turned to face her. The younger girl leant forward and kissed her lightly on the lips, a sign of their friendship, of their bond.

"It does, Hermione, it does. This is it."

Hermione felt a tear slide down her cheek as the two of them turned as one to look at the horizon. Moments later, the two women, one who was once a warrior of the light, and the other who was a Slytherin and a death eater's daughter, were bathed in the golden light of the sun as it emerged from behind the rolling hills.

Hermione Granger's life was full of juxtapositions, and this was just one of them. The healing was done, but, at the same time, it had barely begun.

For right then though, she was majestic.

* * *

A/N One more chapter to go! But if, in the two to three days you'll have to wait for it, you find yourself bored, feel free to check out my Lucius/Luna (I know, wierd right?) oneshot that has just been finished and posted!

Lots of love,

Desdemona


	41. Chapter 41

A/N So there is a song that goes along with this chapter. It's called Untitled 3 by Sigur Ros. I really encourage you to listen while you read. watch/?v=UeuvegBZFuM

* * *

CHAPTER 41

SICK OF ME

"_How sick of me you must be by now, while you're standing just outside of what your pride will allow, always reaching into yourself to find a new way to understand me when I'm sure there's no one else in the world who could withstand me."_

**Eighteen years later.**

Hermione drew her cloak a little tighter around her in the crisp, Autumn air that was biting at her skin. She leant down to adjust Hugo's scarf which was dragging behind him as he walked.

"You've _got _to stop pulling it off sweetheart! You'll catch a cold." she scalded.

"You can't catch a cold from the temperature mum, it's a virus." said Rose smugly. Hermione caught Ron rolling his eyes indulgently at his scholarly daughter.

"But _mum_! It's itchy!" whinged Hugo, tugging at the wool around his neck. "Grandma's scarves are _always _itchy!"

"Well, when we get back in the car, you can take it off." Hermione promised, plucking his hand away from the scarf and holding it firmly in her own.

The little group of four made their way towards the train, squinting through the thick vapour. It was time for Rose to head off to Hogwarts for her first year though her little brother had to wait another two years. Hermione felt somewhat empty at the idea of seeing her daughter leave. Rose had been by her side day and night for the past eleven years and the thought that someone other than Hermione would look after her was a little bit daunting. Someone else would cook for Rose, talk to Rose about her problems and take care of Rose's health. It made Hermione feel somewhat obsolete. Though of course she was happy for her daughter, excited about all the things Rose was about to experience. Hogwarts was an amazing place and Rose would have an amazing time. Her mother was envious.

Someone tapped Hermione on the shoulder and she wheeled around.

"Hi!" cried Isobel brightly and Hermione drew her into a hug.

"Where's Bo?" asked Ron, pecking the younger woman on the cheek.

Isobel rolled her eyes, grinning, "Work."

"Hello Nikki! Excited about your first year?" Hermione asked Isobel's daughter who stood, clutching her mother's hand and looking stressed.

"I'm going to be in Gryffindor, I just know it." said the little girl sullenly.

"Hey! Hermione's a Gryffindor!" Isobel laughed.

Nikki seemed only marginally cheered.

"I think I see Draco and Astoria." said Isobel, craning her head over the crowd.

"Tell them we'll come say hi in a minute. Just waiting for Harry and Ginny." Hermione responded, also looking over the crowd. The two women hugged again before Isobel and Nikki disappeared into the mist.

After a few minutes, Ron pointed over towards the gateway to platform nine and three quarters. "Here they come." he said as five people emerged from the wall.

The Potters made their way over to them, weaving through the crowd.

"Hi." said Albus, Harry and Ginny's eldest, to Rose who grinned.

"Parked alright then?" Ron asked Harry conversationally. "I did. Hermione didn't believe I could pass the muggle driving test, did you? She thought I'd have to Confund the examiner."

"No I didn't. I had complete faith in you." Hermione responded wryly.

The two men made off with the trunks to put them on the train. Hermione hugged Ginny hello as the kids began having an animated discussion about which houses they wished to be sorted into. Moments later, Harry and Ron reappeared, both slightly red in the face.

"If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you. But no pressure." said Ron dryly.

Hermione batted his arm, "_Ron_! He doesn't mean it." she told Rose and Albus, who looked fearful.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows, expecting him to confirm what she'd just said and reassure their child, but Ron wasn't paying attention. His and Harry's expressions had turned dark.

"Look who it is." said Harry, his tone sinister.

Hermione turned to try and catch a glimpse at who they were looking at and saw Draco and Astoria a little way down the platform, talking with Isobel.

"So that's little Scorpius." said Ron quietly and Hermione was about to remind her husband that he'd met Draco's son at least a dozen times before but was cut off when he continued. "Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank god you inherited your mother's smarts."

"Ron, for heaven's sake, don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!" Hermione reprimanded.

Ginny leant close to Hermione and whispered conspiratorially, "They're still sore about Draco getting the credit for apprehending that guy they were all after, it seems."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Only because Draco was the one who caught him. Too right he should get the credit."

The younger woman laughed, "It's all those unwritten Auror codes though, isn't it? Doesn't matter who actually did the deed, they think the whole team should be rewarded."

Hermione chuckled and said lowly, "I swear to god if I have to hear another word about the fucking Auror code, I'll hang myself."

Ginny shrugged and grinned, "We married them…"

"We can also divorce them." Hermione responded wryly and Ginny howled with laughter.

The conversation flowed on as the kids bickered good naturedly, but Hermione wasn't really paying attention. She wanted to take a moment to think about where she was, to remember the last time she'd been there. There was that feeling, like her life had come full circle. A part of her still couldn't believe that she was a mother, that she'd gotten married, that she owned a house. But really that was because she felt blessed, and every time opened her eyes and looked at her children, that feeling of being blessed was almost overwhelming. She really felt like both of them were like limbs, part of her. When she spoke to Rose, she had to remind herself some times that the remarkable little girl wasn't a friend, and hadn't been there for all Hermione had gone through. Because it felt like she had, it felt like Rose had always been there. Like her mother, Rose was shrewd and smart, though, scarily, she seemed to have also inherited her uncle George's cunning and sense of humour. It was a deathly combination.

Hugo on the other hand was quieter and more affectionate. Where Rose liked to stand on her own, Hugo wanted to lead the team. He was one of those people who made you think almost every time he opened his mouth. Hugo was an old soul.

But, Hermione wondered, what would she have thought of herself that age? How would she, at thirty nine, describe her eleven year old self? Nerdy, was the only word that sprang to mind. And bossy.

"Ron?" she asked suddenly, breaking her husband away from his conversation with the children. "What was I like when you first met me?"

Ron looked at her bemusedly and scrunched up his face. "Uh… a ball breaker."

Harry and Ginny roared with laughter while Hermione grinned and pushed him away from her playfully.

Ginny and Ron began to discuss the next Weasley dinner while Harry knelt down and spoke quietly to Albus. Hermione allowed her mind to wander again.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of the station. It wasn't particularly nice but it smelt like home. It smelt like the beginning of something big, she'd always thought that. Her memory drifted away then, taking her back to her teen years, to all those times when something big had begun with a journey on that train…

Her mind was snapped back to attention moments later however, when Rose thudded into her body, her arms wrapped around Hermione's waist.

"It's time to go, mum."

"I know sweetie. I'll miss you."

"Miss you too."

"Be safe," Hermione urged a tad manically, holding onto her daughter's shoulders, "Don't get into any trouble. Don't break the rules. And _don't _join the Slug Club, whatever you do. Don't let James pressure you and look out for Nikki, yeah?"

"_Alright _mum!" Rose laughed, turning deftly out of Hermione's grip but her mother was too quick for her. She caught onto her daughter and dropped to her knees, hugging Rose so tightly that the little girl was almost gasping.

"I love you baby." Hermione choked, her eyes stinging.

"Don't cry mum!" said Rose in false bravado but Hermione could see tears in her daughter's eyes too.

"I'll cry if I want to!" Hermione laughed shakily. "Please write to me, you will write won't you?"

"The train's about to leave, Hermione." said Ron, a tad abruptly. "Come here, kiddo."

Rose broke away from her mother and gave her father a quick hug.

And with that, the little girl was gone, disappearing through a carriage door and boarding the train. Hermione waved at her daughter through the window and the Hogwarts Express began to move. Soon, it was out of sight.

"Ready to go?" Ron asked, not looking at her.

Hermione shook her head. "I'll meet you out there, ok? I want to just… Absorb this for a minute." she said, flashing him a kind, watery smile.

Ron looked at the ground uncomfortably. "You don't want me to stay?"

"No, no, it's fine. You and Hugo go. I'll only be a second." she responded.

Ron pecked her quickly on the cheek and left, his son's hand firmly in his.

Hermione tried to wipe the tears from her face with the sleeve of her cloak but they just kept coming. It was like something huge and heavy was sitting on her chest. She moved to the side to lean heavily on a wall as the platform began to empty. Hermione caught sight of Astoria Malfoy who looked concerned, but Hermione waved and shook her head, rolling her eyes. Astoria waved back and called, "Dinner Saturday, yeah?"

Hermione grinned and nodded.

Soon, she was alone on the empty platform, her jacket pulled tightly around her body as she looked around. The tears finally abated and she took a shaky breath. She didn't necessarily know why she wanted to be there, but it felt nice and part of that was because she knew that once upon a time, she wouldn't have been able to do it. To be standing on platform nine and three quarters like that and not be flooded with memories so overwhelming they gave her a panic attack. Things had changed over the years; she wasn't the same as she used to be.

And so it was that Hermione stood there, feeling a little glow of pride flooding her heart. She still had panic attacks sometimes, when things were really bad, but they were few and far between. Either way, Hermione continued to see a mind healer and it continued to help her deal with herself. Especially since she'd become a mother. She'd learnt quickly then that when you were raising children, it didn't matter how much money you had or what schools they went to. What mattered was that you were mentally healthy. She couldn't bear to think of the damage she could inflict on her children if she'd never gotten a hold of herself…

"Hey." said a voice behind her, breaking Hermione out of her reverie.

She turned and smiled warmly, "Hi Draco." She was vaguely surprised to see him there, thinking he'd already left with his wife.

"How are you?" he asked conversationally.

"Oh… Good… Sad to see Rose go but, you know how it is." she said shakily.

Draco smiled knowingly, "I do indeed. Watching Scorpius getting on that train was… Almost unbearable."

Hermione nodded, eager to change the topic, fearing she might start crying again, "Did you see Harry and Ron on their way out?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes and they both ignored me. They're like teenagers. You wouldn't think we've played quidditch every second weekend for the past ten years or anything…"

She laughed, "Tell me about it. Don't worry, they'll come round."

He grinned, "I hope so… I don't fancy facing Harry in training when he's like this…"

Hermione nodded understandingly but didn't respond. For some reason, even though they'd been friends for years, the silence that followed was awkward.

"Where's Astoria?" she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

"She's gone home." he replied lightly.

"Oh." Hermione frowned in confusion. Astoria and Draco were usually inseparable, it seemed sort of odd and out of place that she would leave without him. "Is everything alright with you two?"

"Yes. We're getting a divorce actually." he said easily, as if they were discussing the weather.

Hermione gaped unattractively. "You're… You're what?"

"Getting a divorce." he repeated casually.

"_Why_?!" she spluttered.

He shrugged, "It's been happening for a while, we started talking about it last year…"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably but made no move to respond to this. She hoped, desperately, that the events of the previous year had nothing to do with the beginning of that particular conversation.

Draco continued, "Astoria's my best friend and I love her but, we're not really in love and there's no real reason for us to stay together anymore, so why drag it on, you know?"

"You sound so ok with this." Hermione said quietly, completely bemused.

"That's because I _am _ok with it, Hermione. So is she. This is what we want. Both of us." he pressed sincerely.

Hermione's mind was being completely useless. She had absolutely no idea what to say at all. "And what about Scorpius? Does he know?" she floundered.

Draco nodded, "Yeah, we had a long talk at the beginning of the summer. He was upset at first but then I think he got to see that we were still friends and nothing was really changing and he just… I don't know… _got it_. He's a smart kid."

"He is." she said quietly.

Her hands were strangely shaking as she thought about Draco's words. The _tovarasi _had extended to include the partners of its members a long time ago and Astoria had always been there. Maybe they hadn't entirely gotten along at first but now Hermione counted her among her very closest friends. She loved the witch and she loved Draco. So what was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to deal with it when suddenly these two people, who had once seemed to be the strongest of couples, decided they weren't in love anymore? Decided to get a divorce?

Really, Hermione couldn't even begin to comprehend _why _she was so effected by it. It was their relationship in the end, so why did she care?

"I wanted to give you something." Draco said after a few minutes of silence. Hermione looked at him blindly, her thoughts still reeling, as he pulled from his pocket, a folded piece of parchment.

"What is it?" she asked dumbly.

"Honesty." he responded and pushed it into her hand. Then, without another word, he turned and strode towards the barrier. Moments later he disappeared.

Hermione slowly unfolded the parchment and looked down at his familiar elegant scrawl. Her heart fell out of her chest and her body slid down the wall behind her as she read.

_i carry your heart with me(i carry it in  
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere  
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done  
by only me is your doing,my darling)_

_i fear_

_no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want  
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)  
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you_

_here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart_

_i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)_

The letter crumpled in her fist.

Hermione's mouth ran dry. There was something in the back of her mind, something that had long laid dormant, that hadn't dares to raise its head in years. It was a flickering candle of hope. He carried her heart? After all this time?

But then, the candle was snuffed brutally out.

How _dare _he?! How dare he give her this?! After all those years, after all the _fucking _work she'd done with her mind healer over him. It had taken almost a decade for her to be able to even look at him without feeling sick! And he thought he could just do this and walk away? Like it was nothing? Like she didn't have to respond to it?

If he thought that, he was kidding himself. Of course she had to respond to it. And her response was anger. And what would her mind healer say to that? Anger is a secondary emotion. It comes from pain or embarrassment or fear. But fuck her mind healer. She was angry. Angry worked right then.

And fuck him for thinking he could divorce his wife! Just like that! Her and Ron had problems all the time, of course they did! That's the way relationships worked, didn't they? Sure, she hated him sometimes and they fought a lot and they hadn't had sex in almost a year, but they were still happy! In fact, Ron was _always_ happy! Even if she wasn't, he was happy. She'd get the blame for bringing the mood down, for being sulky, for having feelings. Ron liked to keep things light…

But her and Ron pushed through, didn't they? Why couldn't Draco and Astoria do that? What made them so fucking special that they could just… just… _end it_?!

Hermione leapt up off the dirty concrete and began to pace the length of the platform.

Ending it wasn't an option. There was no choice. This was Draco just doing what he did best, wasn't it? Just him running like he always did, fleeing from his problems. Saying he wasn't in love with Astoria anymore was such a cop out, Hermione hadn't felt in love with Ron for years and she wasn't clamouring to sign any divorce papers…

She suddenly stopped in her tracks, her chest heaving as the jagged edges of the crumpled letter Draco had given her bit into the skin of her hand.

Had she really just thought that?

Slowly, blindly, Hermione pressed the letter into the pocket of her cloak and walked towards the barrier, her emotions folding away inside her body until they were tiny and her outer exterior was blank.

She emerged in King's Cross moments later and walked briskly back out to where she knew their care to be parked. Ron sat in the passenger's side while Hugo sat in the driver's seat, clearly having a fabulous time pretending to drive the car. At Hermione's alarmed look, Ron held up the car keys and jangled them, grinning.

Hermione approached the driver's side and opened the door. "Fancy some ice cream sweetheart?" she asked Hugo, her voice shaking slightly.

"Yeah!" this little boy exclaimed excitedly and leapt out of the seat. Hermione took Hugo's hand as Ron hopped out of the passenger's side.

"I know a nice place just down the street from here. And then perhaps afterwards, we could go to the park?" she offered, trying to sound happy.

"That sounds like a brilliant idea!" said Ron, beaming and together the little party of three crossed the busy road. "You alright?" he asked Hermione gruffly.

"Fine. I'm fine." she responded tightly, knowing that he wouldn't have been able to deal with any other response.

Once their ice cream had been attained and consumed, Hermione led her family to a little park a few blocks away where Hugo immediately charged off to play on the swing set.

"Stay where I can see you, Hugo!" she called after him.

Her and Ron found a bench and sat down. He grinned as he watched their son playing.

Almost without conscious thought, Hermione's hand sunk into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled letter. She handed it to Ron wordlessly, totally bemused and panicked by her own behaviour. This was one of those moments, one of those decisions that changed everything and she knew it.

"What's this?" asked Ron lightly as he took it.

Hermione did not respond.

There were a few moments of silence as he smoothed out the parchment and read.

After a while, he spoke, sounding confused, "It's beautiful, Hermione… But that's not your handwriting."

"No." she responded with a cracked sigh, "It's Draco's. He just gave it to me."

"Right." said Ron and pushed the parchment back into her hand roughly, as if it had burnt him. "Right…"

"He and Astoria are getting a divorce." Hermione could not look at him, could not bring herself to see the expression on his face.

"Right."

"He said it's mutual. It's what they both want."

"Right."

"He said they're not in love anymore."

"Right."

Hermione gritted her teeth, her hand massaging the space between her eyes. "Is that all you've got to say? Is that all the reply you're going to make?"

"What else do you want me to say Hermione? That I'm going to fucking kill him? That I'm going to fucking kill _you_?" his voice was low and she could hear the fury now. It scared her.

"Maybe you could say that _we're _not in love anymore Ron! That we're not happy!" she hissed, bordering on hysteria.

"I _am_ fucking happy, Hermione!"

She threw her hands in the air in frustration. "Of course you are, Ron! Even when I'm _not_! You're so determined to be happy that you can't handle _me_ anymore! What do you do when I cry Ron?! Huh? You turn your head as if I'm disgusting! _You walk away_!"

"That's not true, Hermione, and you fucking well know it!" he bit, his voice rising.

"Well what about the funeral?!"

"Oh don't bring that up again!" he said in a tone that was meant to shame her.

Hermione felt her eyes stinging, "No! I _want _to talk about it! I _need _to talk about it! I cried for a week Ron! And who was there comforting me? My fucking _children_! Where were you then?!"

"I LOST A FRIEND TOO!" he bellowed.

Hermione noticed Hugo stop playing and turn to look at them. She flashed him a watery smile and waved. After a moment, he turned back and continued to climb up the slide.

Ron turned to look at Hermione as the first tears slid down her cheeks. She didn't miss the expression on his face. Revulsion. He turned away.

"Prove it then." she said quietly. "Look at me."

He laughed sarcastically and shook his head before he turned his eyes to her face. They only lingered there for a few moments before he stood. "This is fucking ridiculous. Come on. We're going home."

"I'm not going home with you." she whispered.

"Fine. Fucking stay here then." Ron snarled. "Hugo! Come on, mate! Time to go!" he called in the direction of the playground.

"Hugo and I are going to stay at Isobel's." Hermione said.

Ron laughed cruelly, "If you think you're taking my fucking son, you've got another thing coming."

Hermione leapt to her feet then, her wand in her hand so fast, he almost missed it before it was pressed into his stomach. "And if you think I'm leaving him with _you_, Ronald Weasley, you're stupider than you look."

He did not move. He knew who was the better dueller out of the two of them, even with his Auror training.

Hugo approached them then, looking fearfully between his mother and father. Though he couldn't see Hermione's wand pressed into Ron's stomach, he could always sense the tension in the air. Hugo was like that.

Hermione held out her hand and her son moved forward and took it. A quick look around the park told her they were alone. Once she'd established this, her grip tightened and she turned her and her son into darkness.

* * *

The trees whispered around them as the pair materialised with a crack.

"Where are we?" asked Hugo, his voice quavering.

"At Isobel's." Hermione responded, trying to keep calm. Had all that really just happened? Had she really just left Ron there like that? Had she really just apparated out of a Muggle populated area? Had she really just walked out of her marriage?

Hermione held tight to Hugo's hand and began to walk up the long driveway that led to Isobel and Bo's house. Forest pressed in on them from all sides, making Hermione feel claustrophobic, despite its beauty.

"Are you and daddy fighting?" asked Hugo.

"Yes, sweetheart. But that's alright. Everything will be alright." she replied. It was always best to be honest with Hugo, he picked up on so much that lying to him only made him scared. "We're going to stay here for a little while."

"Ok." her son squeezed her hand a little tighter, "Are you alright, mum?"

"Not really, but that's ok too. That's why we're going to see Isobel. She'll help."

"_I_ want to help."

"I know baby, but you don't need to help me. It's my job to help _you_! Anyway, you just being here helps." she stopped and bent down to lift her son into her arms before she continued to walk with him balanced on her hip. He seemed heavier every time she did this but it made her feel safer with his arms around her neck. "Are _you_ ok, Hugo?"

"I'm sad." he responded and just hearing those words tore Hermione's heart into tiny, jagged little pieces.

"Do you want to cry?" she asked, not attempting to hide the thickness in her voice. He nodded but she could see him clenching his jaw, trying to keep the tears at bay just as Ron would do. "Well cry sweetie, it's ok." the little boy shook his head firmly and Hermione sighed, "Would it help if I cried too?"

Hugo nodded and so Hermione let open the flood gates.

Almost as if the two of them were in sync, the moment that first tear slipped down her cheek, Hugo buried his head into the crook of her neck and wetted it with his own.

And so Hermione walked, crying, with her crying son in her arms, up to the palatial house that belonged to her best friend of almost twenty years. She mounted the steps and knocked awkwardly on the door. Moments later it opened and Isobel stood there in shock for a moment as she took in the two weeping individuals that stood on her doorstep.

"I left him." said Hermione, her voice cracking.

"Oh shit." Isobel responded and ushered them inside.

"Izzy said a bad word." Hugo grunted, his voice muffled by Hermione's neck.

"The situation calls for it, Hugo." said Isobel, leading the both of them into the large stone kitchen.

* * *

Hermione and Hugo stayed with Isobel for months. And it needed to be that long really, because for a time, she couldn't handle moving at all and it felt like she stayed in bed for days. Hermione needed Isobel more than she ever had in her life. She forgot all about what proceeded the antipodal fight she'd had with Ron, forgot about Draco's letter all together. There was too much to be done, too much cleaning up, too much feeling.

It wasn't until one morning at the beginning of spring that Hermione thought of Draco again. And the thought had come for two reasons. One, she'd found his letter as she cleaned out her handbag, old and tattered and barely recognisable from when he'd given it to her. And two, she'd received an owl from Astoria. And it was this that drove her out of her room that afternoon while Hugo was sleeping next to her after she'd tried, quite unsuccessfully, to quieten her mind by reading.

She padded down the stairs and into the kitchen where Isobel sat at the bench, eating a muffin and reading the Daily Prophet.

"Isobel…?" asked Hermione, pushing Draco's crumpled letter into her pocket. She didn't really know why it had still been in her hand, but she'd just hadn't been able to put it down after she'd found it hours earlier.

"Mmm?" the younger woman responded, staring down at the paper which was open on the table.

"I got a letter this morning."

"Oh?" said her friend without looking up.

Hermione took a seat at the bench and drew the coffee pot sitting there towards her, pouring herself a coffee. "It was from Astoria. The divorce has been finalised. They're not married anymore."

Isobel finally looked up at Hermione over her reading glasses. "You're not surprised are you? This has been going on for months."

Hermione shrugged. "I know, it's just… She sounded happy."

"She is happy, Hermione. They both are."

"It just seems odd to me, that two people could be married for twelve years and suddenly be apart and still feel happy."

Isobel gave her a sympathetic look, "That's only because it hasn't been that way for you and Ron. That's all. But I don't see why they shouldn't be able to have that…"

"Don't you think it might just be Draco doing what he does though? Running away from his problems?" Hermione asked a touch incredulously, stirring sugar and milk into her mug.

Isobel laughed quietly and set the paper down. "Hermione, you know you've been doing that for the past eighteen years."

"Doing what?" asked Hermione, perplexed.

"Assuming the worst every time Draco makes a decision you don't know how to feel about. We're not teenagers anymore! He's been a responsible father and a successful Auror for over a decade now, when are you going to let go and allow him to make his own choices without fear of your bad opinion? Astoria and Draco are divorced. End of story. Why are you so effected by it? It doesn't concern you." Hermione could hear her friend's annoyance in her tone.

"But it _does_ concern me." she said quietly, staring down into the mug in her hands.

"How, Hermione? Because you're friends? You barely speak to him! And when you do, you rarely say anything real… Or because you were in love once? Because you've shared a bed with him?"

"No! It's not for any of those reasons! It's because he wrote me a letter, alright?" Hermione retorted, wishing she hadn't even brought it up.

"What?" her friend appeared completely thrown.

Hermione pulled the now worn and occasionally torn parchment from her pocket and pushed it across the wooden bench towards Isobel.

"When we dropped the kids off on the train last year, he… I don't know, he must have waited until everyone had gone and then he just… Gave it to me. He said it was honesty."

She watched as her friend's eyes flicked over the parchment and then looked up at her again.

"Is this why you and Ron…?" Isobel breathed, surprised.

"No! Of course not!" growled Hermione defensively, "I left Ron because I didn't want to be with _him _anymore. Not because I was thinking about someone else…" she sighed, "I'd actually forgotten about that letter until this morning, it was at the bottom of my bag."

Isobel looked back down at it again, as if she was trying to decipher some minute detail that she'd missed before. "So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know that I need to do anything." Hermione replied, not entirely convinced of her own words.

Isobel nodded, "Ok… Well how does the letter make you feel?"

Hermione thought about this for a moment, "It makes me feel scared and… Oh god!" her head crashed down on the table, "It just brings it all back up again! All that stuff that I felt for him and the pain and the way it felt to touch him and… everything! It makes my head so messy!"

"You still think about him like that?" asked Isobel quietly.

"Of course I do!" Hermione bit out, as if it were obvious.

"After… after _eighteen years_?" Isobel asked, her voice awed.

Hermione had never heard it put like that, she'd never stopped to consider that the feelings had never really gone away, that they'd just been there, sitting quietly in the bottom of her heart. Most of the time they'd been manageable, a little like an old injury. It didn't ever hurt unless she moved that muscle in just the wrong way and then the pain was agonising. Of course, it never stopped her loving Ron, or being attracted to him any less. That was the beauty of it. She'd always loved both of them, equally and for different reasons. But now… That had changed.

"Do you love him, Hermione?"

Hermione closed her eyes and the word escaped her mouth painfully, as if it was fighting her the whole way, trying to claw back into her body. "Yes."

"Well I think you should go to him then." said Isobel simply after a few moments silence.

Hermione spluttered in exasperation, "What?! I can't do that! What about Ron! And Hugo! And everything Draco did!"

"Well, for one, Ron is dealing with all this pretty well now, considering. And Hugo loves Draco, you know that. And you seem to forget that everything he did back when we were at Hogwarts was followed by a long and eventful career _fighting _dark wizards, Hermione. He's quite literally devoted his entire life, even at times _risking _his life, fighting for the light. Don't you think he's shown his loyalty now?"

Hermione stared at Isobel for a long time, her mind ticking over at record speed.

"I'll look after Hugo." said Isobel when Hermione made no attempt to respond.

"Are you sure?"

"I've raised my own child, Hermione, I think I can handle yours for an afternoon… And possibly a night." she responded with a cheeky smile.

Hermione nodded dumbly before she got slowly to her feet. After only a moment's pause she rushed into the living room, hopped on the spot for a moment as she pulled on her shoes, before she scooped up a handful of floo powder from the jar by the fire place and threw it into the grate. Green flames blurred her vision as she stepped into it and called clearly, "Westgate Hall, Norfolk."

The flames carried her away and she closed her eyes hard to ward against the motion sickness she was so prone to getting while travelling through the floo network. Moments later, her feet found solid ground and she stumbled out gracelessly into an immaculate, lavishly decorated drawing room.

"Hello?" she called to the house in general but received no response which did not surprise her. Westgate Hall comprised of thirteen bedrooms in total after all.

Hermione took a few, tentative steps away from the fire place when suddenly, a house elf appeared with a crack in front of her.

"Can I help you miss Hermione?" it squeaked.

"Yes, I… I'm looking for Draco. Or Astoria." she added as an afterthought.

"Mistress Astoria does not live here anymore, miss, and Master Draco has gone for a walk down by the sea. I would be very happy to direct you to where he can be found, miss Hermione."

"No, no thank you. I think I know where I can find him. But… It would be good if you could show me where the backdoor is. I always get lost in this house." she requested with an apologetic laugh.

The house elf bowed and ushered Hermione out into the hallway. For a few minutes, they simply walked, far too slowly in her mind, and Hermione felt like she was being led through a labyrinth until finally, mercifully, the house elf led her to the back door.

"Thanks!" Hermione called out behind her as she immediately set off at a sprint through the perfectly kept garden. Of course, the garden was just as grand as the house it belonged to and it took Hermione several long minutes to reach its boundaries. She stared over the hedge at the sand dunes that rose out of the grass a few metres away, blocking the sea from her view. But she could still hear the ocean crashing against the shore, calling her, tempting her.

Hermione cast around herself desperately for a gate. The shadows were growing long as the afternoon gave way to evening and she knew that if she didn't get onto the beach soon, she'd never find him.

So, with as much dignity as she could muster, Hermione vaulted over the hedge, tearing her linen shirt and dirtying her jeans as her knees fell onto the grass on the other side. Upon inspection, the hedge looked a little worse for wear that she did.

She clamoured up one of the sand dunes, discarding her shoes after a few moments struggle so that she might make her journey easier, until she half tumbled and half ran onto the beach.

The ocean lay sprawled across her vision, grey with the falling dusk.

And there he was, standing a few feet in front of her and to her left, clad in one of those immaculate black suits that he looked so well in.

He turned at the sound of her clumsy arrival and she could see he'd been crying.

His eyes did not widen at the sight of her, did not register any amount of surprise or relief. They just looked pained.

"Hermione… I love you." he professed, his voice cracking.

"I know." she said, stumbling across the sand towards him, "I know."

And there was a second, just the briefest of seconds where their noses were almost touching, when she was breathing in his breath and he, hers, before her lips met his.

And there was that moment again, as their clothes fell on the sand and their bodies pressed together after eighteen years of pain and want, that moment where none of it mattered, where nothing could touch them. The cold was nothing, all that they'd been through was nothing, all that they still had to face was nothing. They were together, they were perfect, they were right where they needed to be.

Hermione opened her eyes and stared up at the stars blooming in the sky above her. Draco moved on top of her, her palms splayed on his bare back feeling his thrusts, feeling the vibrations of the sounds he made run through her hands like electricity. And the stars were rushing towards her and the colour she knew so well, even though she hadn't seen it in eighteen years, bloomed in her vision.

She didn't need magic to see magic. It was right there, with its skin pressed against her chest, with its lips on her neck, telling her it loved her over and over again for all the times it hadn't.

Draco was her magic, he always had been.

* * *

_End._

* * *

A/N PLEASE READ!

To all my incomprehensibly wonderful, glorious, beautiful readers,

So here we are then. At the end. This story has been my sole focus for the last four months of my life and I have loved every single moment of it. I've loved sharing it with you all, loved your responses (both good and bad) and loved that I was able to be a part of re-creating a little segment of the world that we all love so much.

But before I sign off on this story, I'd like to say a few things.

ONE. Before you start picketing my house (as I'm sure you're all eager to do after that ending lol) there WILL be a sequel. It's all planned out and ready to roll! It will be 19 chapters long and cover the intervening years between Hermione's conversation with Isobel in chapter 40 and the epilogue. But there will also be one chapter covering the year AFTER the epilogue. It will be focused on the story of their lives and how they progressed, rather than magic in the way that Victim of the Fall was. So stay tuned! The first chapter will hopefully be up within a matter of weeks. I must warn you though, I want to increase my work load now and therefore, updates will not be as frequent. In fact, I would like to wait a little while before I start working on it properly, just to have a break is all. But don't worry, you can trust me. I will do it! While writing Victim of the Fall, I wrote nothing else and I do not want to continue this pattern. I have an original novel to write! Also, I plan on working on a few more fanfics which brings me to my second point…

TWO. I will now accept fic requests, in fact I strongly encourage you to make them! I believe it will help me to grow as a writer. Just send me a private message on and include a list of things you want and do not want to see in a fic plus LOTS of prompts, because I love them, even the eccentric ones! I won't make them any longer than five chapters though, just a series of novellas. I'm open to pretty much any pairing (or threesome or moresome lol), though I don't think I'd like to write slash. As a woman, I wouldn't really consider that my wheelhouse! As you all have probably gathered by now, most of what I write comes from personal experience. So femmslash, het and threesomes/moresomes is fine. Oh and I'll only write for Harry Potter for now.

THREE. I will still read and reply to any reviews you post. Of course this is not possible on so anyone reading on there who'd like some questions answered, just PM me on .

FOUR. The long awaited trailer! By the beautiful and talented MarauderNo5 who is simply amazing in every single way. watch?v=lLgxhXus2gY  
If you have any trouble finding it, please feel free to search you tube for "Victim of the Fall Dramione Pretty Desdemona" and you'll find it. It will also be found on my profile :)

And now… I have some acknowledgements to doll out.

Firstly, I'd like to thank my BETA, he knows who he is, for sitting up until 3am with me and drinking coffee (occasionally snoring on the couch) and helping me figure out the plot and flow of this story. SERIOUSLY would not have been able to do it without you.

Next set of thanks goes to my ridiculously intelligent and beautiful little sister, who has sat next to me throughout the writing of the last few chapters and screamed at me every time my typing stopped, rolled me cigarettes and made the tea. I love you.

To my mum for drumming into me all the harshest truths of writing, I still have nightmares about her reading my work and shouting "STOP RESORTING TO CLICHÉS! YOU'RE BETTER THAN THAT!". Also for reminding me to eat, sleep and shower when I became too engrossed. Basically for being a fantastic mum who I love and admire more than anything.

To my dad for grunting, "Mmm. Yeah. It's good." after he'd read every new chapter. And for reading chapter 29 even though it was fucking weird. Dad? I promise we'll never speak of it again hehe.

To my best mate, who planted the seed for the original idea for the Dividing Line by telling me that she likes to have sex in doorways because it makes her feel connected. Because she's on a Dividing Line. I love you, you fucking hippy!

Obviously, a huge portion of my gratitude goes out to my reviewers. Even the bad ones. Because more reviews means more views. So even if I thought you were so totally off the mark it was almost startling, you were still helping me out. Cheers :D. There were a couple of my most frequent reviewers who I'd like to mention by name because I have grown to love them dearly, but I'm worried I'll leave someone out! The ones who spring to mind are as follows: Kain, Lisha, Cat, Anaidra, TomFeltonMeUp, ExhiledWater, Aranel, dhreader, Deathraven, RavenclawStudent, RoseberryGirl, Wolness, Kou Shun'u, TheAthenzZ, mh21, Green_Eyed_Mist, Tori, DeliriousMuse… I have a feeling I may have lost some of you along the way, but your ongoing support really made this story what it was and I love you.

Lastly, I'd like to thank all the people in my life who's personalities and the experiences I shared with them, have served in making these characters come to life. Especially the men and women (both the crazy ones and the nice ones) who have been, at any point, a sexual or romantic partner of mine. You guys MADE Draco and Hermione. Everything about their relationship came from you. So I kinda hate you/love you lol.

Anyway, that's it for me.

It's been an awesome journey guys and I hope it will be the first of many. Maybe one day, you'll see my name in print, though you won't know it's me, and you'll recognise some of these concepts in a fresh, new, original novel. Keep your eye out for Afarit's Mark.

Love and light to you all,

Desdemona

xx

P.S FOR THOSE ON ADULTFANFICTION, SEND YOUR FIC REQUESTS TO

The poem featured in this chapter is I Carry Your Heart by E.E Cummings.


	42. Chapter 42

Hello lovelies! The first chapter of Victim of the Fall's sequel is now officially online!

As always, read, review and enjoy!

Hope hope some of your concerns and unanswered questions will be resolved.

xx

Desdemona


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